


Midnight (Wishing for a happy ending)

by sunshine_kitcat (moonkevin)



Series: Sun clouds: A League of Legends x Seventeen AU [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, League of Legends - Freeform, Lots of it, M/M, Magic, Missing in Action, Multi, Prophecy, Racism, Superpowers, just a LoL x SVT AU with your normal fantasy shit what else do I say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkevin/pseuds/sunshine_kitcat
Summary: Seungcheol bit his bottom lip, unsure about this proposition. “Will I ever see my mom again?”Jonghyun’s face falls.“Not until you learn how to properly handle this power,” he explains. Seungcheol’s eyes narrow. “Why?”“Because it’s not safe.”“Why?”“Because you don’t have any control over it yet.”“Why—“Jonghyun clears his throat, cutting off Seungcheol.“Just trust me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”-You don't need to know about League to read this! I don't know much about it anyway, so 80% is made up!
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan
Series: Sun clouds: A League of Legends x Seventeen AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591327
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2019/20





	1. Your smile on the first scene (SC)

The sky was gray the day it happened.

Noxian clouds are as thick as they always were, a dark, humid blanket over the small cliffside town like always. There's no rain that day, no droplets of condensation to draw Choi Seungcheol’s attention away from the large gathering forming in the square. The citizens pay the drab gray skies no attention, accustomed to the humid air it caused the town to feel. The stone walls and stone columns of the monotone town are the same, boring shade of gray.

Seungcheol often dreamed of running through the whole town throwing vivid colours to light up his world with the colours of the pink and blue diamond tattooed on his shoulder. Today, there’s at least a hint of colour: blood-red flags hanging from every house from the edge of the town to the center. The entire population of Bloodcliffs gathered in front of the wooden stage, staring in awe at the leader of Noxus’ power of Might. Seungcheol stares at the war General with interest, studying how his eyes radiate compassion despite his war-tempered face, how his great broadswords glitter red and black despite the lack of light in the town, how his other hand spin a great wheel filled with little slips of paper.

Seungcheol’s mother whispers something in his ear, tone soothing as her grip tightens around her son. Seungcheol doesn’t hear anything over the nervous mumbling of the crowd and the low hum of the mark on his shoulder. Staring as the Noxian General picks up the first slip of paper. The crowd silences, to the point where only the wind can be heard faintly in the distance. Seungcheol sucks in a breath, finally realizing that the draft has started.

The draft. The dreaded draft for the Noxian army to feed their resources for the Ionian Invasion. The draft that inspired fear and hatred in the entire extensive nation of Noxus, whose sole goal was expansion. It mattered not how many they lose along the way. It mattered not who the nation absorbs into its borders. Noxus would have control of Runeterra, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Their current conquest raged in the First Lands, scaring ancient magic and civilizations. Seungcheol had watched his own father be dragged off to fight in Ionia, the screams and tears of that night forever seared in his mind. Now, five months later, he is deemed missing in action. The draft came around again, and Seungcheol is stuck right at the lower age limit.

“It’s begun,” Seungcheol’s mother whispers.

“Kim Minseok,” the General announces, the name echoing relief across the crowd. The grip around Seungcheol’s shoulders is tighter. His mother’s hand is warm on his limbs, like an anchor of sorts. 

“You won’t be picked, baby. There are so many other people,” she mumbles. Her breath is warm on the crown of his head, comforting before Seungcheol realizes what’s happening. The General keeps on listing names. The crowd reacts accordingly, sighs of relief and dread mixed into the occasional excitement and vigour. The sky is silver today, the cause being the normal drab clouds that plague Bloodcliff’s skies three hundred and sixty days a year. Seungcheol wonders if the sky was clearer in the Immortal Bastion, Noxus’s capital. Surely, it must be more colourful than Bloodcliffs. Noxus celebrated diversity after all, so there must be more to the capital than the boring gray walls that surrounded Seungcheol since the day he was born. Seungcheol ignores all of this, his stare trained on the next slip of paper on the General’s hand. His mother’s murmurs are a little louder now, more desperate as her head remains downturned.

“Jason Hewitt,” the General declares. Seungcheol sucks in a breath, gripping his mother’s arm. Jason was a boy in his class, only a little taller and much lankier.

“What if I get picked, mother,” Seungcheol whispers, eyes wide in fear, as the boy he’s never quite noticed before gets dragged away. His mother doesn’t respond, opting to rub gentle circles on his shoulder instead. There’s a little pink and blue diamond on his shoulder that burns at her touch. Seungcheol shifts uncomfortably at the sudden heat. They never found out what it meant, his family losing too many funds after his dad left to properly look again. The draft continues, taking with it Seungcheol’s next-door neighbour’s wife, the daycare teacher he used to have a crush on, and the fisherman from two streets over. The list goes on, and Seungcheol loses more and more familiar faces in the crowd. “Last one baby,” his mother whispers. Seungcheol nods, biting his bottom lip as the General pulled out the very last slip of paper.

“Choi Seungcheol,” the General calls out, and the crowd all but explodes in relief. 

“No!” A scream lodges itself in Seungcheol’s ear. Disbelief strikes his face, fear creeping into his features as his eyes start to water. The guards find him soon enough, a small 13-year-old boy standing in the middle of a parting crowd. His mother screams and wails, begging them not to take him away. The guards tear her hands off of Seungcheol, one by one. Then, they force her onto the ground, gripping at her skinny, pale arms in an attempt to contain the woman. Seungcheol struggles for the two seconds he can, yelling and biting his guards as they fight against him. His mark glows with anger, taking control as fear engulfs Seungcheol’s mind. His eyes glow green, flickering flames dancing in the leaf-like orbs. The crowd gasps and screams, scrambling away from the scene.

A renewed kind of vigour courses through Seungcheol’s veins, rolling off of his body in waves of green energy as he roars. The closest guard tries to tackle him, yet the energy pushes him back without Seungcheol even noticing. The guard lands on his butt, swearing as the energy moves to attack him again. Reality flashes in Seungcheol’s vision, tearing a scream from his lungs as he loses himself to the magic. His mark pulses and burns, almost painfully. He retracts his hand, not knowing what to do as the energy envelopes his entire body. Seungcheol watches in horror as it gathers in front of the offending guard, twisting strands tangling up and taking shape. The head of a dragon forms, the creature from every child’s nightmare. The crowd is in shambles, screaming and running in every possible direction. Seungcheol’s mother runs to him, clutching his body and whispering into his ear.

“Stop it Cheollie,” she whispers, patting his head as Seungcheol shakes in her arms.

“I-I don’t know h-how to.”

The dragon twists in victory, taking pose over the guard before glancing over at Seungcheol. The boy sucks in a breath, trembling in terror at the sight of such a terrifying creature. The dragon scowls at his expression, turning back to the guard. The crowd has disbanded, all hiding in their houses and cowering. The General has stepped down from his podium, his guards on either side as he heads towards Seungcheol’s shaking body. The dragon sees the General, snarling as it turns to the man. It raises one claw, poised to strike one of three leaders of Noxus as a scream tears through Seungcheol’s throat.

“Stop!” he screams, eyes puffy and red as tears rolled down his cheeks. He wills the dragon to stop with his entire body. The energy retracts, fading into a pretty pink and blue diamond on his shoulder once again. The world stills for a moment before the guards return to their task.

“What are you doing?!” Seungcheol’s mother screeches. The boy himself has surrendered and given into his fate. The general walks towards them, his boots clicking on the pavement, rhythmic moves that silences the crowd. His mother’s wails were all that can be heard. The General’s smile was sad as he bent down to Seungcheol’s mother’s face. He opens his mouth to speak when Seungcheol’s mother struggles free of her guards for long enough to swing her palm in a wide arc. The sickening sound of skin on skin echoes through the crowd, drawing gasps from bystanders. It seems they’ve filter out again, after the worse was over. Seungcheol bites his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

“Don’t you dare take him. Not after that,” she whispers. A muscle in the General’s jaw pops, his hand reaching up to massage the hand imprint on his left cheek. Sighing, he turned to her.

“The draft was conducted fairly ma’am—”

She growls. “I don’t care. You people have no right to endanger children like that,” she says, spitting on the General’s face and drawing growls from the rest of the guards. The General’s hand raises up to stop them. One of them twitch in annoyance, a scowl on his doll-like face. Seungcheol peers at the guard who sent that glare curiously, for the others flinched out of duty where this one moved out of emotions.

“We could train him. Let him learn of this untapped power of his. I can promise you myself that he shall be safe. He will never have to set foot on Ionia his entire life,” the General comforts. The crowd explodes in shouts of disagreement, demanding Seungcheol be executed.

The General growls at them. “Enough! Noxus respects power,” he says, before looking to Seungcheol, “whatever form it may take.”

Seungcheol’s mother’s face contorts in pure fury.

“You respect power when it is convenient,” she snarls. The General raises an eyebrow at her, his jaw setting.

“Then it’s settled,” the General states, standing up.

He motions for the guards, “Take her away. As for the boy, take him to my caravan.”

“No!” she screeches. Seungcheol yells back, struggling against his guards as he tries to reach out for his mother.

“Haven’t you people taken enough away from me?”

“Let this be an example to all that Noxus makes no exception. You are here because we protect you, so you will protect us when we need you!” the General says, voice booming through the entire town. People shout their protests at him, demanding justice where justice had no place. Seungcheol watches it in fear, terrified of what his life was to become. The guards turn on their heels and leave, dragging the newly drafted with them as the town howls in anger and fury.

The sky was gray that day, not a single disturbance in its serene face as it watched its citizens face their death. The mark on Seungcheol’s shoulder glows bright under his shirt. He scrambles to hide it from the others as they start to leave. The General stares at him with curious eyes, moving into his caravan without a word as the group started to move. Seungcheol's eyes are bloodshot from crying, his tears dry. He embodies Bloodcliff’s spirit like this, he thinks bitterly. The General loops an arm over Seungcheol's shoulder, patting him gently over the glowing mark under his palm. The first part of the trip was spent in silence, tense shoulders and constant alert. At some point, the caravan hits a bump and Seungcheol falls onto the General’s shoulder. He jumps up immediately, flinching violently when the General reaches out to steady him. The mark pulses green again, angry at the foreign touch. The General’s face softens.

“Relax. It’ll calm the spirit down,” the General says gently. Seungcheol complies, slowing down his breathing. He looks out the window, staring at the passing tree lines and birds. One of them stares back at him, tilting its head. Seungcheol rubs at his mark, remarking how easily this spirit dragon of his could take that fragile little creature’s life.

“Where are we going, sir?” Seungcheol asks, deciding to distract himself from today’s events. 

The general shakes his head. “Just hyung is fine. Jonghyun-hyung.”

Seungcheol swallows. “Okay, Jonghyun…hyung,” he tests, feeling uncomfortable at such a casual title for someone so important. The General, er, Jonghyun smiles at him.

“We’re headed for the Immortal Bastion. You’ve got a very special gift, Seungcheol. One that could hurt many, many people,” Seungcheol flinches at the memory, “but also one that could save many others too,” Jonghyun finishes. Seungcheol stares at him with wide eyes.

“You know what my mark means?” the boy asks, surprise written all over his features. Jonghyun chuckles at the sight.

“No, not quite. But I’m pretty sure I can teach you how to use it safely.”

Seungcheol bit his bottom lip, unsure about this proposition. “Will I ever see my mom again?”

Jonghyun’s face falls.

“Not until you learn how to properly handle this power,” he explains.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Because it’s not safe.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t have any control over it yet.”

“Why—“

Jonghyun clears his throat, cutting off Seungcheol.

“Just trust me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”


	2. No matter how tough it is (JS)

In hindsight, maybe Hong Jisoo was a little too harsh when he slammed the door behind him. It hadn’t been intentional, of course, for Jisoo was a respectful, loyal soldier before he was an emotional, feeling citizen of Demacia. There was little room for talking back in the Demacian army, after all. To simply be considered apart of the Demacia’s pride, the Mageseeker Marksmen was rewarding enough for Jisoo to keep his mouth shut. Still, Jisoo had let anger get the best of him when he stormed out of the conference room with heated cheeks and a spiteful leer.

“Jisoo,” a voice calls out, stern in words yet soft in tone. Jisoo sighs, looking down from his perch atop the headquarter's roof.

“Yes, boss?” Jisoo answers back. Below him, Minhyun’s eyes soften, yet disappointment lingers in his gaze. Jisoo swallows back a groan. He hadn’t caused that much of a scene, had he? It was just a disagreement, and Jisoo should’ve backed down when he knew Dongwan wouldn’t. Asshole.

“Can I come up?” Minhyun’s voice cuts through his thoughts. Jisoo nods, scooting over as his superior officer climbs on. Under the moonlight, sat atop the mansion, Minhyun looked like every other marksman in their group of ten, if one ignored the glittering silver badge on his collar. Jisoo thinks back to when Minhyun was still insisting that Jisoo call him hyung instead. After a while, it became apparent that Jisoo was rather stubborn, after a childhood of calling superiors by titles over names, and Minhyun had resigned to being called the boss. The new recruits picked it up, and the rest is history. Jisoo feels wistful at the memories, wanting to recount them with Minhyun as the eldest pair of marksmen. Yet, Minhyun was still his superior officer. Jisoo can’t just ignore that.

“Why are you here?” Jisoo asks. Minhyun’s shoulder tenses up at the question, his usual habit for when his plans suddenly get derailed. Jisoo guesses he was expecting to ease in some wise old man advice first.

“I'm trying to be a good friend here, Soo-ah. Dongwan may be wrong about what’s coming out of the portal—”

A snarl. “He is.”

“—but that doesn’t mean we can just ignore it. We need to at least check up on this portal of sorts. It lies on both sides of the border, so an alliance is necessary.”

Jisoo snorts. “With the Noxians? They’d take our offer of trust as an excuse to take over Demacia. Need I remind you of the last time they tried?”

Minhyun’s jaw hardens, all too familiar with the last time a Noxus legion had tried to start a war with Demacia. Jisoo lost too many good soldiers that day. Minhyun lost too many good brothers that day.

“That will not happen again. We have declared that area No Man’s Land, and the agreement composed of them signing a contract to promise peaceful cooperation. Magic is to be tolerated, but not used against any of our own troops,” Minhyun says, sighing. The mark on Jisoo’s shoulder heats up, moving to the forefront of Jisoo’s mind before he wills it down. He can’t risk exposing himself again, and these mages coming near him might trigger this prison chain of sorts on his shoulder. Trying to ignore his blatant betrayal, Jisoo scoffs at Minhyun’s words.

“Guaranteed by what? What is the punishment otherwise? Nothing sufficient for another invasion, that’s for sure," Jisoo says.

Minhyun sighs. “We have no say in this. The king has already agreed to the contract. We leave at dawn.”

Jisoo scowls, but Minhyun’s face is stern. He slides off the roof, only pausing to turn around to face Jisoo.

“I expect your best behaviour, soldier.”

Orders were orders, no matter how much Jisoo resented them. The meeting was smooth, going off without a hitch. The Noxians had been cooperative, to say the least. They set up camp with terrifying speed, setting up walls and digging trenches that would make Demacia’s outer  _ permanent _ outpost look like a child’s playset. The Marksmen were assigned to keep watch for any sign of the portal’s spawns, along with ten of the Noxian warriors. Jisoo had been...cold with his partner, to say the least, storming out of the camp alone instead of introducing himself. Minhyun threw him a glare, yet the soldier simply sent Jisoo’s leader a sympathetic glance before running to catch up with Jisoo.

“H—”

“Shh,” Jisoo hisses. His bowstring is slack, while his step is normal. The soldier stops in surprise, confusion on his expression as he looks around.

“There’s nothing around,” he says. Jisoo shrugs.

“I just don’t want to talk to you.”

The confusion of the Noxian would have been priceless if Jisoo paid him any attention. Instead, the archer returned his attention to the forest that surrounded him. The brush is thick, with large branches stemming from the century-old oak trees. Perfect perch, if the need arises. Jisoo marches ahead, footsteps light to not disturb the forest floor in case anyone would be following his trail. The soldier seems to catch on to his technique after a while, for Jisoo’s well-trained ears stops hearing crunching leaves and snapping branches every two seconds. They walk in silence for a good half an hour or so, before Jisoo’s blissful silence is disturbed by a clearing throat.

“You know, I don’t think this is gonna go too well if we aren’t going to even exchange names. I heard your boss wanted to make you guys camp with us to promote an alliance or something.”

Jisoo flinches. A scowl takes over his face, but he doesn’t turn towards the Noxian.

The soldier sighs. “How about a deal. Give me your name and I won’t talk for an hour. I’m Seungcheol,” he says. Jisoo turns around, finding an outstretched hand along with a friendly smile. Seungcheol’s other hand hangs by his side, slightly tucking away the large broadsword hanging behind his back. His long, black coat nearly reaches his knees, the silver lining on the rim barely hiding the small tendrils of magic radiating off of it. Jisoo almost exploded at the sight of magic, the very thing Demacia was built against. His bow tingles in his hand, a reminder that Jisoo could easily absorb all that magic if he wanted to. The stones on the bow glitter silver in his eyes, a reminder that Demacia offers refuge for all, magic-user or not. The mages simply had different living conditions.

“I’ll never make a deal with you people,” Jisoo snarls. Seungcheol’s face flashes with hurt at the response. Jisoo turns his back, marching off without a word. He hears Seungcheol break into a speint to catch up.

“What is your problem?!” Seungcheol yells. Jisoo surges forward, ignoring the Noxian soldier. A hand grabs at his shoulder, turning the Demacian around. Jisoo grabs at his wrist, ready to fling him to the side when he sees the man’s eyes. They glow green, emitting an emerald colour off of his body as he clenches his teeth. The energy twists together and takes shape, resembling a snarling dragon head. It looms over the soldier’s head, fury in its eyes as it gazes down as Jisoo. Jisoo must’ve hesitated for a second because the soldier seems to have seen his dragon’s reflection in Jisoo’s eyes. He staggers backward, starting to apologize when Jisoo shoots him a glare, gaze hardening.

“Always looking for a chance to attack, aren’t we?” Jisoo bites. Seungcheol’s eyes widen, hands flying up in surrender as he stammers.

“No! It’s just—It comes out when I’m—I mean—That’s not important!”

Jisoo scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Making excuses yet again. You sound just like the last Noxian-Demacian alliance we had.”

Seungcheol flushes at that. “They defected. There were never orders to attack Demacia.”

“Not yet, you mean.”

The soldier hesitates. Jisoo snorts at Seungcheol, about to turn around and continue on his path when a loud rustling sound catches his ear. Jisoo flinches at the sound, reflexively drawing his bowstring and knocking an arrow. The sound of a sword sliding out of its holster rings through the air, echoing into the distance as Jisoo’s eyes dart around for any sign of movement. He lowers his stance, training his ears on the tree branches for any sound. For a moment, all is silent.

Then, it charged.

“6 o’clock!” Jisoo yells at Seungcheol, although it proves to be needless as the soldier backflips a mere fraction of a second before the words could leave Jisoo’s lips. Seungcheol slams his sword down, an action so fast Jisoo could swear it was a blur. Yet, the shadow simply vanished before it could land, pouncing over to Jisoo’s position. The marksmen swept his foot back and dropped, letting the creature soar over his head before kicking up and elbowing whatever the creature was. His limbs collided with dark purple fur while the scent of year-old mouldy cheese filled his nose. Jisoo grits his teeth, quickly firing an arrow at the creature that laid on the ground. He turns to Seungcheol, instinctively checking up on him when he spots the soldier facing off a horde more all on his own. The spirit dragon is back, tearing through limbs like a knife through butter. Seungcheol was no less of a force, swinging wild yet calculated arcs, sweeping multiple at once and kicking the others towards Jisoo.

“Just gonna stand there, princess?” Seungcheol yells, a wide grin on his face. Jisoo’s blood boils. He knocks seven arrows at once, skewering at least a dozen and already moving towards the horde in two bounds. Seungcheol’s dragon roars in response, sweeping over to Jisoo’s direction with bared fangs before Seungcheol lets out a huge roar.

“Bad dragon! That’s a friend, not a foe! Shadow things!” Seungcheol screams. Jisoo resists the urge to laugh at the odd discipline method, opting to drop to his knees and sliding past the spirit. He swings his hunting knife to his right, impaling a shadow before he felt the first stab of pain. I digs into his shoulder, trying to gain traction before Jisoo can gain his senses back. The small diamond tattoo Jisoo tries so hard to hide every day glows blood red at the danger. A gasp comes out of his lips, punching the creature weakly. He’s losing blood fast, quicker than he should be. Must be the doing of whatever creature this is. He growls, trying to fight back before a sword swing in front of his face, cutting the creature in half. Before he can even register what happened, a warm hand grabs his injured shoulder, pushing against it. Jisoo’s surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt, even though the hand is practically squeezing his circulation off. His vision turns bloody, a haze of red as he spots three more creatures approach them. He turns to Seungcheol, whose eyes are no longer that glowing shade of green.

“Speak of this to no one,” Jisoo hisses. Seungcheol sends him a confused look before Jisoo grabs his hand and throws it off, letting his mark meet sunlight. With a heaving breath, Jisoo forces his blood to recline, pulling every single strand of red back into his body. A loud gasp comes from Seungcheol, but Jisoo pays it no mind. He glares at the advancing creatures, imagining the purple blood flowing through their veins and pulling on it. The first creature explodes, its own blood spilling out to taint the lush green grass of the forest floor. The second hesitates at its companion dropping so fast, and Jisoo lets out a piercing scream before exploding the entire rest of the horde.

“Your ma—”

“Don’t,” Jisoo hisses, although his energy is so depleted it comes out as a whimper. Seungcheol shakes his head. He scrambles to pull off his coat, wrapping it around Jisoo’s arm before pulling it to make a makeshift bandage. Jisoo’s vision returns to normal, his breathing evening out as his body readjusts to the regained blood. To his side, Seungcheol sighs. Jisoo turns to snap at him once more before his eyes catch something glimmering under the sunlight.

A tattoo, barely the size of his fist. It sparkles blue and pink, identical to the one that just burned mere moments ago on Jisoo’s own arm. A gasp builds in his throat, shock overtaking his features before Seungcheol notices it. Meeting Jisoo’s eyes, Seungcheol smiles a tired smile.

“Hi. My name is Choi Seungcheol, and I think we have something to discuss.”


	3. A role that protects you (JH)

“Oh hello there!” A big, bright voice bellows.

Yoon Jeonghan grips at the edge of the stone platform he’s on. He eyes the two passing women turning at the sound of the merchant’s greeting. Their faces brighten at the sight of his goods, stopping in their tracks to strike up a conversation with the merchant. Jeonghan instinctively reaches up to pull his ragged hood further over his head, eyeing the loaf of bread sat on the table behind the merchant. His impoverished and frail hand feels the cold sting of the rocks he sat upon, huddled away under the dark cover of the forum’s shadow. This had been his perch for nearly an hour, his target having too many customers for an easy slip in and out. His stomach growls for the millionth time these past two days, cold and scratchy under his threadbare shirt. 

The Targonian sun hangs overhead, a scathing reminder of why Jeonghan was in this position. Targonian society, split in half like two halves of the day. The Solari, a cult of sun-worshippers ruling over the region with an iron fist, were the ones responsible for the Lunari Genocide ten years ago, the one that wiped out half of the Targonian population. Now, the Lunarians are few and far between, too afraid to show themselves to the world. Jeonghan scowls at the memory of his own mother. Jeonghan had to watch her lead a war she never wanted to be involved in. Their last hope laid in a single Lunarian, a girl who tried to scale Mount Targon in hopes of being chosen by the Aspects. Then, they would’ve had the power of the stars on their side, letting them turn the tides and restore Targon to its former state. Predictably, she failed.

The merchant sells another loaf of bread, and he finally sits down to admire the forum. His back was turned to his goods, left unattended for just a moment. Jeonghan sucks in a breath. This is his chance!

With a small leap, Jeonghan summons the mark on his shoulder and extends a platform under his feet. Tendrils of light soften his landing, springing him back up as he waves the light into the merchant’s eyes. The merchant yelps, turning around in a fit of blindness as Jeonghan snatches up a warm loaf of bread in one fell swoop. The merchants along the forum yell at him as Jeonghan breaks into a run. His mark burns cream yellow, shown on his left shoulder for the whole world to see as Jeonghan ran through the forum.

“Thief! Thief!” the merchant yells. Jeonghan ignores him, darting in and out of the people’s grasp as he charges for the pile of boxes he can use to reach the hidden alcoves by the forum. Mount Targon’s looming shadow covers his back as Jeonghan charges away from the sun. A shrill whistle sounds in his ears, making Jeonghan wince as he realizes that the Solari’s wardens have found him. He reaches the boxes, narrowly dodging an arrow shooting past his face.

“Stop! In the name of the sun, stop!” the police calls. Jeonghan, of course, ignores them. He summons platforms of light once he reaches the top, bouncing from one to the other as he leaps over the forum. Its dark gray pillars shine at the intrusion of light on its normally deep shadows, lighting up cracks and carvings in the stone block, a perfect foothold for Jeonghan to use to scale the open-air forum. Down below, Solarian Police yelled at him, threatening to kill him even though he was dangling 5000 feet in the air. Jeonghan gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. If he was just another Solarian, the police would probably just leave him alone. Unfortunately, those cultists have been too good at recognizing someone outside of their own.

Heat rushes past Jeonghan’s ears, the telltale sign that the Solarians have started to use the fireballs. Jeonghan summons up a light shield, blocking one or two shots to give him a few precious seconds. With one final vault, Jeonghan makes it to the top of the forum, launching himself into cover as he pulls out his treasure of the day. The loaf was still warm, causing a smile on Jeonghan’s face despite the fireballs whizzing by right behind him. He bit into the bread, ignoring his dry mouth in favour of food. It was gone in a matter of minutes, barely enough to satiate his hunger. Jeonghan glances at the backpack he had hidden in this little alcove above the forum, wondering if he should use those supplies. He hesitates for a moment, wanting to reach out before retracting his hand. No, that was reserved for a different journey.

A large fireball flies past his vision, going straight up. Jeonghan’s eyes widen, recognizing the sight. His mind wanders to the memory of a recurring dream. One that showed sight of a gigantic avalanche, caused by a humongous fireball. Jeonghan remembered every detail of it, down to the frantic manner in which he grabbed his backpack and ran towards the avalanche. His mother used to tell him that was their saving moment for Jeonghan had been chosen by the Aspects to scale Mount Targon and become one with the gods. It was his fate, to save the Lunarians from the wretched Solarians their society was built on. Jeonghan believed all of her words, ignoring that his dream never showed any sign of turning back. There was a time he trusted her with all his heart.

A time where she was still someone to believe in.

Jeonghan sighs, flinging his backpack over his shoulder and setting out towards the mountain. His mother had been long gone now, taking with her Lunari’s only hope of rebellion when the entire cult revolted. Jeonghan had slipped away that day, convinced that Targon had nothing to offer him any more. His life became one of a runaway, trying to survive by day and clinging onto the hope of his dream by night. His mark pulses on the daily, seeing his struggle every day and ready to lend a hand. Regardless, it took so much energy Jeonghan couldn’t give, and he ended up hungry and shivering more days than not.

Now the dream was coming true, right in front of his eyes as the side of the mountain collapsed in snow and ice. The forum behind him yells and screams, probably scrambling away to save themselves from the incoming avalanche. Jeonghan summons his mark, holding a shield over his head as snow bounces off of it. His light tendrils boost him through the air, knocking away snow and ice as Jeonghan finally emerges from under the avalanche. The light energy launches him as far up as possible before Jeonghan runs out of energy and it fades away. Jeonghan rubs his arm, trying to warm himself up as he looks upwards. Mount Targon swirls to the sky, moving past the clouds and reaching the very last pocket of air in the world. Jeonghan feels his spine chill at the sight, not understanding how he could ever make it to the top. If he was truly chosen, the Aspects would somehow bring him up anyway. If not…

The mountain wind whips in his ear throughout the climb, a relentless howl carrying cold and warmth at the same time. The sun ticks down every second until sunset, a blue and red hue over the sky, darkening with every passing minute. Jeonghan’s breath fogs out in front of him, a feeble little puff of air amongst the wind. His body is too frail to continue for long, collapsing before the forum he had come out of had even disappeared from his sight. His vision blurs, arms weak and tears overflowing as he realizes he’s a fool for clinging onto hope.

In one final attempt to see the sunset on his last breath, Jeonghan opens his eyes.

A gasp overtakes his throat, spilling out louder than he’s ever been able to talk in years. His body feels revitalized, powered with new energy and power as he looks around for bearings. He’s somehow above the cloud line, the rest of the world behind a velvety smooth bed of white, light pink and blue. The sky above is navy, a beautiful outstretch of twinkling lights. The top of the mountain is pure ice, blue and clear. The wind ruffles Jeonghan’s hair, still violent and harsh as if the Aspects are testing him yet again. With renewed faith and determination, Jeonghan pushes himself off of the ground, grabbing onto the nearest protruding icicle. A hiss comes out as Jeonghan feels the biting frost on his hand. The wind’s picked up at his ears, loud and deafening amongst Jeonghan’s pants and grunts as he climbs. They whisper insults and promises of rest with every step, trying to pry him from the mountain. Jeonghan ignores them, focusing on using the most of his renewed state before it runs out. The mountain hums with power, as if accepting Jeonghan’s mindset. The Aspects are testing him, and he must prevail.

Yet, the cold and fatigue comes back soon enough, biting at Jeonghan’s arms and muscles. Engraved in the glacial ice are people, past climbers and civilian Targonians alike. Jeonghan had often heard of the mountain sucking up its spoils of war, constantly extending further and further into the sky. Jeonghan stares into the eyes of each and every soul he passes, finding fear and terror with every passing pure white iris he finds. They’re all frozen in action, various poses of despair and fear. The mountain is cruel, only finding the most tortured souls to display in its collection. With a start, Jeonghan finally understands why the mountain stretched up with every passing day, and why the landscape constantly shifted to be bigger, wider, and more menacing. The Aspects did not claim Mount Targon’s power, Jeonghan finally realizes. They were trapped by it, trapped by their own desire to save these very souls they sent to defeat the mountain’s power, trapped like these bodies were, encased in ice and stone. Jeonghan grits his teeth, feeling his fingers numb around the blocks of ice. He wonders what would happen to the rest of the world if he just let go at that moment. No one would miss him. No one knew him. No one would care.

Do not give up, little one,  a voice whispers in his ear, snapping Jeonghan back to reality,  you will be the one to bring them all together. You must not let go.

Jeonghan’s reminded of his dream. The very one that showed his body now, scaling a mountain too tall to scale normally. In that dream, his mark carried his every step, spilling light into the dark night. He had always taken it literally, thinking that his spirit of light would allow him easy access to the top. Maybe it had been metaphorical, standing for the Aspects sending energy into his beaten limbs. Jeonghan presses his lips together, closing his eyes for a moment to feel the Aspect’s power. Then, he looks up and ignores his dream. It would prove no more useful now that Jeonghan knows exactly what to do. Still, the dream plays out in his mind, taking him through every single moment from now until then.

A falling body, surrounded by ice as it falls down and down, only touched by the moon’s gentle caress and night’s silent tears. Its hand was outstretched, reaching towards the top with a gentle smile on its face as if all was right in the world. There was no sound in the dream, only the silhouette and blue ice. It was eerily different from the rest of Jeonghan’s dream, which was filled with whipping winds and biting frost. Jeonghan shakes his head. That part must’ve been simply his own imagination.

It must’ve been.


	4. This world is always ‘Easy come, easy go’

“You’re staring,” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, cheeks dusting pink as he swivels away.

“Am not,” he declares, although it’s more of a stutter than a declaration. The other man scoffs at him before the healers shush him. Jisoo, Seungcheol learned, was his name. And what a beautiful name it was, for someone who looked like the angels had come to bless him personally at his birth. Seungcheol pretends to study the canvas tent the Noxians have set up for an infirmary. Jisoo’s getting his arm bandaged, confusing the hell out of the healers at the lack of blood around his wound. He had refused to pull his shirt down further than just over his shoulder, an odd notion to anyone unaware. Seungcheol’s own mark feels hot under his coat as if it was burning a hole in his shoulder. The feeling travels to his gut, like a stab to tell him to address the elephant in the room. The lamp the healers put in the corner flickers dimly, barely lighting the tent in an orange hue. After deeming his pause convincing (it had been two seconds) Seungcheol turns back to his companions. Immediately, he meets Jisoo’s eyes. The marksmen immediately scowls, annoyance on his soft, delicate features. Seungcheol wonders what kind of history this guy has had, for his companions were nowhere near this scathing. A healer punctures a needle into Jisoo's shoulder, completing the stitch. Jisoo’s nostrils inflate at the sudden prick, his face constricting in pain. Seungcheol dismisses the healers, waving them away before turning to meet Jisoo’s eyes again. Silence passes between them, the suffocating kind without words or meaning, simply silent.

“How does it feel?” Seungcheol says, breaking the silence, sitting down next to his companion to inspect the stitch. Jisoo shifts out of his view, turning around to have their chests facing. He pulls the shirt up, yet Seungcheol can still see the bandage’s edges extend to his clavicles.

“Fine. I ask you to leave me alone now,” Jisoo growls, Seungcheol shakes his head, trying not to let his mind wander further downward.

“We need to talk.”

Jisoo scowls. “No, we don’t.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, pulling his own sleeve up to display the mark he knew lay just on the side of Jisoo’s own shoulder.

“This is important. It’s apparently the source of both of our magic—”

A hiss.

Seungcheol ignores him, pressing on. “—and for some reason, we both have it. We either work together and figure this out, or something bad is going to happen because we didn’t try to take a crack at it.”

“I wouldn’t mind telling fate to fuck off,” Jisoo mumbles. Seungcheol sighs, exasperated as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What if it ends up being some kind of injury? Or a warning? We have this magic—”

Another hiss.

“—for some reason. Don’t you stop and ask yourself why this is here?”

Jisoo shrugs. “Could be a birthmark.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “A birthmark. Capable of summoning spirit dragons and controlling blood flow,” he deadpans, completely unamused. Jisoo pulls his knees to his chest, resting his head on them as he spares Seungcheol a smirk. He’s silent, which means Seungcheol should probably take it as an  _ I’m not going to help and that’s final. _

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Seungcheol mutters to himself, careful not to let the others hear it. Still, Jisoo’s smirk widens.

“I already ruled out hexes—Don’t hiss again, I’m aware you dislike magic. Noxus’ best hex makers already took a look at the magic for me. It’s tied to my DNA stream. Since you have the same mark, it’s safe to assume you got yours at birth too.”

Jisoo hums. “Okay, Mr. Detective. What do you propose we do with this?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “I don’t know yet. From what I’ve gathered, the marks come out with emotions. Control comes with controlling your emotions, and practice seems to fine-tune the magic—“

Another hiss. Seungcheol throws his hands up, sighing in exasperation.

“Will you stop that!” he yells. Jisoo doesn’t even flinch, only staring at him with an unimpressed look.

“No,” the Demacian says, ever the anti-magic protester. Seungcheol sighs in defeat, letting his body fall back onto the thin bed. Turning to face the other, Seungcheol’s lips jut out into a pout. Jisoo raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, looking like some kind of angel in the flickering light of the lamp. It’s kind of unfair, Seungcheol thinks, for him to look so adorable. Seungcheol can’t even stay mad at Jisoo, not when Jisoo’s looking like that.

A groan leaves Seungcheol’s throat in his dilemma, causing Jisoo’s eyebrow to only rise further up. He probably looks like a kid, throwing a tantrum like this. Whatever.

“How old are you?” Seungcheol asks out of the blue. Jisoo scoffs, undeniably bewildered at Seungcheol’s childish attitude. At this point, the Noxian doesn’t even care about what the other thinks about his personality. If he’s going to be difficult, then Seungcheol refuses to humour him.

“Old enough. Probably older than you,” Jisoo replies, lips twitching ever so slightly. Almost into a smile. Seungcheol grins in victory.

“I’m 20, August baby,” Seungcheol says. Jisoo’s lips curl into a frown for a split second, obviously displeased. Seungcheol’s grin widens.

“You’re younger, aren’t you,” Seungcheol teases. Jisoo scowls, turning his head away. His head was lying sideways on his knees, turned away. Still, his eyes flicker back to see if Seungcheol was still staring at him. The glance is caught, painting an adorable shade of pink across his cheeks. Seungcheol holds back the urge to laugh.

“Only by four months,” Jisoo grumbles, barely audible. This time, a soft chuckle tumbles out of Seungcheol’s mouth. The Noxian stands up, stretching his hands up into the air. Turning back, he catches Jisoo’s confused expression.

“Where are you going?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “Bed? Hopefully? I don’t plan on staying in the infirmary for more than necessary.”

Jisoo hums thoughtfully before turning his gaze away again. He’s like a cat, of sorts. Prickly at first, but give it kindness and a bit of indulgence and it’ll warm up right away. Seungcheol’s always been fond of cats.

“You coming?” Seungcheol offers. Jisoo’s left arm twitches in hesitation, head swivelling up to watch for Seungcheol’s expression. He tries to smoothen out his smile, hopefully looking warm and inviting to the cat-in-human-form. With a sigh, Jisoo untucks his knees and stands up anyway. Surging past Seungcheol without a word, his hand barely grazes Seungcheol’s own. There’s a certain hesitation to his touch, but the meaning is obvious.

Seungcheol sighs, fondness exploding in his chest. Jisoo’s prickly, this is certain. He seems to harbour a grudge, or at least is pretty cold. No matter, Seungcheol enjoys a challenge.

“Hong Jisoo, I will get to you,” he mutters to himself, before breaking into a light jog to catch up.

“This is awkward,” Jisoo deadpans. Seungcheol looks over at him, not able to help himself as a light chuckle escapes.

“I can sleep on the floor, if you prefer,” Seungcheol offers. Jisoo scowls.

“You’ll catch a cold. I don’t mind.”

The upper heads must think they’re hilarious, assigning every Demacian and Noxian to one room with only one bed. Maybe they thought it would be good for their relationship, forcing the pairs to overcome the obvious grudge the anti-magic protestors harbour. Or rather, the obvious grudge one particular anti-magic protestor harbours.

Seungcheol smiles at Jisoo’s averted gaze, sat down on the half of the bed that faced the wall.

“Do you ever stop smiling?” Jisoo snaps. Seungcheol shrugs, letting the venom fly over his head.

“The world’s a lot brighter when you find the things that make you smile,” Seungcheol says. He sits down on his half, lying down on his back so that he can face Jisoo still. The marksman is flustered, trying to come up with a retort when Seungcheol smiles again at his cute expression.

“You’re really cute, you know that?”

Jisoo scowls. “I could snap your neck in half in your sleep.”

Seungcheol’s smile widens, loving how ruffled Jisoo is. He’s dealt with worse venoms, spending about half of his life in the Immortal Bastion. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Jisoo’s face morphs into one of confusion. “Even after I murdered a crowd of who-knows-what by literally turning their blood against them?”

“They were trying to kill us.”

“I have a kill-first, ask-later policy.”

“I’m sure that’s not the truth.”

“It is.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “Then wouldn’t I be dead already?”

Jisoo’s cheeks flush red.

“If your dragon tries to bite me, I’ll chop your head off,” Jisoo growls, although his exhausted voice makes it sound more like a slightly passive-aggressive purr. Cute.

“Nayoung doesn’t bite. Normally. Usually.”

Jisoo rolls his eyes, lying down and smiles turning his back so that he faces the wall instead. His body is tucked in, like a small compact ball of cuteness and feline. Seungcheol stares at his back for as long as one can deem non-stalkerish, wondering how he was going to get through to this mysterious guy in front of him. The window is open, letting in the slightest breeze. The candle’s smoke blows out the window, yet its scent remains. It smells of strawberries, sweet yet sour, just like Jisoo. Seungcheol chases the thought of one day getting past Jisoo’s defensive walls and understanding the enigma, to be able to smell that light strawberry scent every day. In his head, Seungcheol can clearly see Jonghyun’s knowing smile and mischievous eyes, telling the mentee he’s in deep. Maybe he really is, considering that it’s only day one.

A warm body presses up next to Seungcheol’s side, followed by a soft snore. Seungcheol’s eyes wander down, investigating the occurrence when he sees his cat-like companion fast asleep. He’s curled up onto Seungcheol’s side, clinging onto one of his arms like a lifeline. His features are relaxed, spreading pure bliss in Seungcheol’s chest as he stares at his roommate. He’s so gentle like this, all soft and squishy as if the world could explode and he wouldn’t even care. Seungcheol thinks he could be too if this angel would be there with him.

“Good night, kitten,” Seungcheol whispers, turning to tuck his arm under Jisoo’s neck and pulling him a little closer. He burrows his nose in the younger’s light brown hair, smelling strawberries. A few minutes pass, slowly lulling Seungcheol’s eyelids to flutter close, swept up in dreamland.

Seungcheol is DEFINITELY in too deep.


	5. I want you to say ‘I love you’ (JS)

Jisoo doesn’t know when it became fondness.

It wasn’t SUPPOSED to, that’s for sure. He was supposed to keep this too-big child at an arm’s distance, keeping their relationship strictly professional. They would part ways come the end of the contract, and bonus points if Jisoo could piss him off.

Instead, Jisoo is squished between a rock and a hard place. The rock being his stupid sword and the hard place being this imbecile’s (perfectly toned under the shirt) chest. To make matters worse, his dumb spirit dragon swirls around them, warding off the shadow creatures trying to dive in. 'Nayoung,' Seungcheol called it. The dragon was always on its best behaviour around Seungcheol, yet the moment he loses himself into strategizing their next move, Jisoo could swear it was sticking out its tongue at him. Jisoo has half a mind to return the gesture if his situation is a little less suffocating.

(It doesn't help that Seungcheol’s eyes are ridiculously hot. Nope. His idiotic little grin can go squander right the fuck off his face for all Jisoo cares, looking so smug like that. It didn’t look hot. Nope. Not in the slightest. Anyone who claims otherwise can catch the receiving end of Jisoo’s arrows.)

“Do you think you could hit the ones in the back? Cut off the wave a little?” Seungcheol whispers, arms tensing up to block yet another swipe from behind Jisoo. The marksman whips around, flicking his leg up in a kick that knocked two out. Nayoung roars gutturally, whipping five at once. Still, they kept on coming. The rest of the squad was fighting somewhere else, still trying to advance on this incoming invasion. For now, it would only be the two of them. Jisoo turns his gaze far back, trying to spot a good break. He looks up, spotting a sturdy enough branch to use as a vantage point.

“If you can get me up there and hold your own for a while, then sure,” Jisoo replies through gritted teeth. Seungcheol doesn’t reply, only swinging his sword behind him again. The sweep is expected, letting two creatures bounce onto it. Seungcheol doesn’t even flinch at the sudden evasion, letting go of his sword for a split second as he punches the left one right in the face. The one on the right dives for his face, to which Jisoo stabs in the eye with an arrow. Then, he knocks the arrow into his bow, letting it pierce two at once. The reverb pushes him back a little, which Seungcheol takes as an opportunity to boost him upwards. Jisoo grabs a branch, swinging himself onto the vantage point before knocking four arrows into his bow. The mark under his arm tingles at the action, flowing into his arrows with practiced ease. Jisoo prays his fellow marksmen aren’t watching his blatant treason. With an exhale, Jisoo lets the arrow fly, directing the shots with his mind as they whiz through dozens of shadow creatures at once. Jisoo turns over to Seungcheol just as the first two arrows break, redirecting his attention back to the fight below.

A gasp tumbles out of his lips, amazement in his eyes as Jisoo realizes he’s never even seen Seungcheol fight properly before deeming him unnecessary. The guy fights like a monster, sword looking like an extension of himself as he and Nayoung clean up this wave. In the back of Jisoo’s mind, his third arrow finally breaks, allowing the next wave to settle in. He cups his hands and yells to Seungcheol, who’s breathing hard as he strikes down the last few. They can’t go on forever.

“Any ideas where they’re coming from?” Jisoo yells. Seungcheol reels in his dragon, breathing hard as he drops his knees, gasping for breath in the few seconds they’ve bought themselves. Jisoo lets himself down, waving his hand over Seungcheol’s cut on his cheek to pull the blood back in. A temporary solution.

“We should follow where blood is the thinnest since less have died there. They probably spawn there,” Seungcheol mutters. His eyes lack focus, and his arms were way too weak. Fending off that horde must’ve been harder than it looked. Jisoo groans, throwing the other’s arm over his shoulder as he hitches Seungcheol’s left side over his shoulders.

“Come on. I’ll clear a path if you promise to hang on,” Jisoo mumbles, starting his trek. The shadow creatures have started to reform again, snarling and hissing at Jisoo and Seungcheol. The elder of the pair tries to fight, but Jisoo silences him with a gentle pat. Turning his head back to the monsters, Jisoo lets his gaze harden. He doesn’t know how, or why his blood boils and crackles with energy despite fighting for just as long as Seungcheol. He doesn’t know where the sudden bloodlust came from, even though Jisoo hated each and every one of these creatures. He doesn’t know where the protective flair came up, although it might be his normal job shining through. All he sees is red, red everywhere in his vision. The trek past the creatures is practically silent, although that might have to do with the deafening ring in Jisoo’s ear. Blood thunders in his ears, threatening to explode out of his body as he continues to pull the strands of liquid out of the creature’s bodies. Jisoo’s limbs lose feeling soon enough, his vision almost becoming flat red as the scent of blood overpowers his every sense. At some point, the light dims, blurs and all but stays coherent. Jisoo can feel his nerves reactivating, returning from his bloodlust. The weight on his shoulder is gone, sending a terrified squeeze to Jisoo’s heart. Before despair could set in, Jisoo’s blurred vision can barely spot a familiar outline. There’s a warm hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles as whispers trickle into Jisoo’s ears. There’s also a glowing green mark, swirling over his head before it saps into his body.

And then, the world explodes.

_ The in-between is a yellow canvas of absolutely nothing. Jisoo takes his time to spin around, taking in his surroundings. In front of him is a vast space, empty and unassuming. It has a calming sense to it, in contrast to the usual attention to detail Jisoo so often requires in his line of work. _

_ “You’re early,” A voice calls out. A familiar voice, one Jisoo’s heard countless times in this exact dream. His awake self could never connect the dots, only able to remember the vivid yellow amidst the dream. _

_ It could never remember the golden boy in front of Jisoo now, blond hair and a bright smile on his face. It was one of fondness, love and familiarity. One Dream-Jisoo had grown to love oh so much. _

_ “So are you,” Jisoo asks. Usually the other would take longer, his vision dreams often taking up so much of their time. The boy simply shrugs. _

_ “Today’s a different schedule. The aspects want us to meet.” _

_ Jisoo raises an eyebrow. “Meet… in real life?” _

_ The boy smiles. “Yes. In real life. I’ll be able to see you soon, my precious Jisoo.” _

_ Jisoo returns his smile, eyes curved up to take in the beautiful boy in front of him before his brainless awake self forgets again. _

_ “Then I’ll see you soon, Jeonghan-ah.” _

Waking up was a painful experience. Jisoo had exactly two seconds of pure bliss before pain shot up his entire body. Visions of his dream come back, normal spots and hazes of yellow he could never decipher. It always seemed to be right there, on the tip of Jisoo’s mind and yet...

“Gently! You’ll break another bone!” A voice barks. Jisoo blinks the spots in his vision away, letting his eyes adjust to the bright lights. He expected a nurse, ready to check on his conditions. Instead, Seungcheol fills his vision, concern all over his features.

“Did we do it?”

Sdungcheol hesitates, face showing his internal debate. “No,” he finally says, “you took us both back.”

Jisoo wants to snap, but his jaw aches at the very thought of moving it again. Jisoo settles for a glare instead.

Seungcheol sighs. Jisoo notices his bare arms on display, carelessly showing his beautiful mark to the rest of the world. Another piece of anger burns in Jisoo’s stomach. This bumbling idiot probably got everything handed to him on a silver plate. He probably hasn’t even ever had a day’s hard work on his hand. No, he could ever understand the pain Jisoo’s mark has caused him. The pain  _ magic  _ has caused the world. Noxus could never understand.

“Do me a favour,” Jisoo hisses, moving his mouth as little as possible, “and get out of my sight.”

There’s a flash of hurt in Seungcheol’s face, morphing into confusion and ultimately anger as he hardens his gaze at Jisoo. Jisoo only just notices the cast on his arm, followed by a number of bandages travelling up and down his body as he realizes exactly which thoughts he just vocalized.

“Wai—”

“Save it. If you want me gone so badly, don’t save me next time,” Seungcheol snarls. Jisoo’s heart nearly falls out of its cage in panic, standing up as he tries to calm the elder down.   
“I did—”   
“Didn’t mean it, huh? Didn’t mean to lead me on? Didn’t mean to ignore the fact that you saved me when you could’ve left me?” He roars, “Didn’t mean to be an asshole?!”

Jisoo flinches at the tone. “Quiet down! You’re causing a ruckus!”

Seungcheol snorts while the anger is still palpable in his eyes. “About time I get to do so,” the Noxian hisses, turning his heel on Jisoo as he marches out.

Every single bone in Jisoo’s body protests as he moves his legs to catch up. Seungcheol’s barely power walking, yet Jisoo’s in mind-numbing pain by the time he reaches the other.   
“Seungcheol, wait!”

The aforementioned hesitates, if only for a split second. Then, he continues on again. Jisoo takes the opportunity, or rather, his knees did, buckling at the outburst of pain and collapsing onto Seungcheol’s back. His arms instinctively wrap around Seungcheol’s waist, a tight cling to hang on for his life. He knows the fall won’t hurt him. Not much, anyway.

(At least, the physical one won’t. The emotional one though, locked away under years of harsh reality and trained coldness would break Jisoo until a million pieces. Somewhere, deep under the folds of his consciousness, a locked box of dreams Jisoo’s learned to ignore yells at him. For that Hong Jisoo isn’t some cold asshole. And yet, the cracks of personality are simply that. A bunch of cracks.

Jisoo was never suited for love.)

No. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Jisoo sobs, not quite sure if it’s from the pain or genuine despair. At this point, maybe it’s both.

“Little late for sorry,” Seungcheol snaps, although Jisoo can hear his voice slip on the last syllable. He buries his face deeper into Seungcheol’s shoulder, feeling as the first tear slips past. His body screams in pain, wailing in agony as it’s forced to stand on its own. Jisoo can see the spots return, threatening to return him back to the unconscious world. A warm pair of arms loop under his body, hoisting him up in a bridal position as Seungcheol meets Jisoo’s gaze.

“You need rest,” Seungcheol states plainly. Jisoo searches for any hint of concern, forgiveness or any shred of emotions other than confusion in Seungcheol’s eyes, yet not even a single thread could be found.

“I’m sorry,” Jisoo mumbles for the last time. Seungcheol just shakes his head, wordless as Jisoo slips into the realm of the unconscious once more.

“I don’t expect forgiveness.”

Silence. The candle flickers ever so slightly, signalling to Jisoo that his companion wasn’t quite asleep yet.

“I’m just sorry, Seungcheol. I say things I don’t mean and I didn't mean to lead you on or do any of what I did, but I’m a terribly impulsive asshole who doesn’t know how to keep his own opinions straight,” Jisoo rambles on, trying to sit up so he could gauge Seungcheol’s reaction. Faster than he can even blink, Seungcheol turns around and grabs his wrist, effectively pushing Jisoo back down onto the bed. His gaze is tired, yet still absolutely emotionless. Jisoo’s mark glows in the silence, a pulsing red that travels into his vision as he swallows.

_ No,  _ Jisoo thinks, with desperation in his mind.   
“Not now,” he mumbles. Seungcheol flinches, face morphing into confusion. Jisoo shakes his head immediately.

“Not you,” Jisoo croaks out, barely able to keep the vision under control. His mind buzzes at a million miles an hour, racing against itself as a floodgate of memories storms in. Memories of a distant land, all frozen and ice-cold along Jisoo’s body as he watches a lifetime flash through his eyes.

“Jisoo?!” Seungcheol yelps, catching Jisoo before he could hurl himself onto the ground. A weak choke rips itself from Jisoo’s throat, his eyes widening as his brain registers a familiar face—except he’s never seen this one before. Before it ends, a single string of words echoes in his mind, repeating like a mantra as Jisoo’s mark finally dims.

_ It’s not too late. _

__ _ It’s not too late. _

__ _ It’s not too late. _

__ “It’s not too late,” Jisoo mutters, eyes snapping to focus. The dull ebb of pain in his body evaporates, replaced by the strange sensation of boiling blood. He’s only ever felt this once when Seungcheol was on the verge of collapse earlier today. Jisoo mutters a low curse, practically jumping out of bed to get his stuff.

“What’s not too late— Jisoo what the— You can’t just—”

“We don’t have time,” Jisoo says plainly, strapping his cloak on and trying to keep his pulse low. “Either you’re coming or you’re not. We don’t have much time to act before he slips." The mark’s bright red again, spreading under Jisoo’s skin like an infestation. Seungcheol’s eyes narrow in confusion.

“Who’s ‘he’? And where are we going?” Seungcheol questions, although he complies regardless. Jisoo nearly winces at the bond he’s formed, social shields ready to come up before his mark burns again, like a pinch reminder of something much more pressing.

“His name is Yoon Jeonghan. He’s the future Aspect of Light, the first Runeterra’s ever seen. He’s barely hanging on as we speak, trying to scale Mount Targon. We need to save him,” Jisoo explains in a hurry. Seungcheol still looks confused.

“And how do you know this? Why are we saving him?” Seungcheol fires, slipping on his coat and grabbing his broadsword before swinging it over his back. They finish roughly at the same time, eyes landing on each other as Jisoo sends a mental apology to Minhyun for slipping away without a word.  _ He’ll understand _ .

Jisoo takes a deep breath, letting red energy sprout out of his mark, just like the vision had shown him doing. Then, he locks eyes with Seungcheol.

“You told me we needed to investigate this mark of ours, right? In case anything happens.”

Seungcheol pales in realization. A grim line sets onto Jisoo’s face.

“Well, it’s happened. We’re about to lose our Aspect of Light.”


	6. I won’t leave in peace (JH)

They came out of nowhere.

It was surreal, how real this scene was and how exact his dream had been, down to the prickling frost around his fingers and the whipping winds that slammed the two bodies against the mountainside. Jeonghan could only stare in disbelief as the two human bodies fell down the icy slope, completely calm and silent of any yelps or screams.

It was either raining dead corpses or they’re just really damn crazy.

“What the hell was that?!” one of the guys yells at his companion, to which the other guy simply shakes his head. Jeonghan deduces them to be a pair of rather comfortable friends, for their exchange was cold in the manner only true friends have. He almost yells out to them, wants to ask them for help when he sees a mark.

A mark he’s never seen in any of the visions.

A mark he’s seen countless times, tattooed on the side of his left shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know where the mark would drop us?!” the skinnier man yells, shifting his body into a shape that was less aerodynamic. The other one whips something out from his back with one hand and tucks his hand around his companion’s waist. Jeonghan bites back a gasp at the sight of what the bulky man had pulled out, for it was a grand broadsword the size of Jeonghan’s entire body and more. It lodges into the ice with such force that the whole slope shakes under its weight, yet the precision of his jab holds the ice together and stays there, perfectly still. 

Jeonghan’s fingers sting in pain from staying on the ice too long, and he grits his teeth with a newfound determination to go towards the figures that have been haunting his dreams ever since he was a wee little boy.

“Hey! Look!” one of the men calls out, and Jeonghan holds back the urge to look in favour of climbing, for his strength has been sapping every second he spends out in the cold. It’s mind-numbing, this kind of pain and cold, yet Jeonghan can only return to the steady rhythm he had set out for himself closer to the start. 

An arrow with a firmly tied on rope flies past his vision, sticking right next to his left hand, dangerously close to his pinky finger. Jeonghan sucks in a breath, looking up to find that the two guys are still too far away for him to properly communicate with in this weakened state. Still, the bulkier of them holds his gaze and smiles at Jeonghan. A smile. One of the likes he’s never seen before, not even from the mother who raised him from birth to now. Not even from the village and cult that fortified everything he knew about the world. Not even from his own face. It's a smile of comfort, a smile of reassurance and a smile of encouragement. It's blinding.

“Grab ahold! I’ll pull you up!” the man yells, and Jeonghan’s numb body obliges. He holds on with every last ounce of energy in his body, praying he’ll have enough strength for the pull-up. His mind is worrying about the rope, for there is no way it could support him for long enough. He is pleasantly surprised when it does, even if it means he is way too light. He had grown up his whole life like this, after all. For some reason, the rope feels warm. It doesn't bite into his palms, more pleasant than the ice was. Jeonghan stares in amazement, only starting to notice the green aura from the rope. Eyes widening, he stares upwards at the man pulling him up and gasps. His entire body is glowing green, a flickering shadow of a large dragon curling around his body. His companion hangs from the sword’s blade, somehow not cutting himself as he coils the rope back into its holster with one hand. Jeonghan was right, they are crazy. And maybe inhuman. Definitely inhuman.

“Are you okay?” the one who pulled Jeonghan up asks, only to have his friend scoff.

“He’s too skinny, freezing and is about to collapse from exhaustion. Of course, he’s not fine.”

“Jisoo, you’re not helping.”

“Seungcheol, you’re wasting time we don’t have. Get us out of here,” Jisoo snaps. Jeonghan stares at the two of them, wanting to say something to break up this fight, but his lips have frozen long ago. Seungcheol sighs at this, closing his eyes as the green dragon flickers around his form once more.

“I-I’m Jeonghan,” Jeonghan manages to croak out. Jisoo’s eyes are gentle at his attempt, reaching out to pat his shoulder before turning to his friend.

“We’ll need a boost,” Jisoo prompts, nudging his companion, “can you carry three?”

“Hold onto something,” Seungcheol mutters. Jisoo grabs Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s hands, steadying Jeonghan’s perch and placing his own palm next to Seungcheol’s vice grip.

To be honest, Jeonghan doesn’t remember anything else, eyes closed and body on the verge of death as a warm rush of something ran through him. He doesn’t remember the howling winds trying to destroy their fragile vessel, doesn’t remember Seungcheol throwing them higher up as a head start and doesn’t remember Jisoo screaming with the realization of what Seungcheol just did. He doesn’t remember the smile that he tried so hard to tattoo in his brain, that same comforting smile Seungcheol gave before. He doesn’t remember Seungcheol yanking his sword out of the mountain, a million shards of ice shattering upon impact as the winds cried their fury. He doesn’t remember the other male falling down the side of the mountain. No, he doesn’t remember anything.

At least, nothing he hasn’t already seen in his vision.

_ In his dreams, the vision is gone. For the first time in his life, Jeonghan doesn’t recognize anything in his sleeping state. It’s a haze of yellow and…yellow. A blank room, with absolutely nothing in sight. Well, almost nothing.  _

_ Jeonghan reaches out to touch a dangling string, coming from seemingly nowhere. Attached is a photo of two boys, one instantly recognizable. The other is familiar, like a gnawing memory in the back of Jeonghan’s mind that he can’t quite grasp. The pair is just sitting in this one, surrounded by fluffy white clouds as they peer over into the world below. The distinct towers of Piltover can be seen at the very edge, with both boys turned towards it. Jeonghan stares in amazement at the photo, wondering what was happening in it. He lets that one go, moving to the next one. They all share the same theme. Two boys, watching some part of the world as they laugh and play together. They eventually grow up, yet their smiles stay as youthful as always. _

__ _ “Hello, real-life self.” _

__ _ Jeonghan turns around, gasping when he spots a figure in the room. Dream-Jeonghan’s state is much different than his own, wearing such oddly fluffy clothes and a rested expression Jeonghan could never imagine on his own. _

__ _ “Are you…me?” Jeonghan asks, tentatively raising his hand as if he can touch his dream self. Dream-Jeonghan smiles, amused by Jeonghan’s own actions. Jeonghan flinches, realizing that he could hear the other’s thoughts. _

_ “You can hear much more, Aspect of Light. You are the bridge to bring them all together. You are the first to discover the dream realm. You will be the one to reunite our family.” _

_ Jeonghan frowns. “Our family is dead. Has been for nearly a decade now.” _

_ Dream-Jeonghan simply shakes his head. “Not that one. You will see what I mean. For now, you must find me, and you must discover the part of you that was lost. The boy you’re with will be key to this. The other one,” the dream figure pauses, “he’ll prove his purpose later. For now, focus on your goal, my dear. You are waking up soon, so listen close.” _

_ Dream-Jeonghan’s eyes roll backward, showing completely white in his eyes as the yellow room fade into wispy white. Jeonghan yelps, eyes widening at the scene below him. _

_ “What the—“ _

_ “From darkness comes one’s common foe, from past to future one’s self must grow.” _

_ The scene is a flat surface of black. A million dots of red fill Jeonghan’s vision, dancing like fairies in the wind. No, not dots. A gasp tears itself from Jeonghan’s throat as he realizes that a million eyes are staring right back at him. _

_ “And though their hearts share joy and pain, their lines will fall, though life is saved.” _

_ There’s a glass wall, fragile and cracking in front of Jeonghan. In the corner of his vision, there’s a flash of light and a figure stumbles through. Jeonghan runs to it, trying to help it up when he watches the figure smoking and burning, evaporating into thin air. He scrambles back, falling onto his butt as Jeonghan watches the boy turn to the gaping mirror he came through. Then, the scene zoomed away, a blur of motion across Jeonghan’s vision. _

_ “The one with heart of snow and ice—” _

_ A blizzard. Two vague outlines. One is limping, carrying the other. It stumbles. _

_ “—the one who paid life’s deepest price.” _

_ Two ships, firing at each other. There’s a flash of lightning, striking through the dark misty storm that swirls around. _

_ “The one who learns of other’s minds—” _

_ There’s a boy, stumbling through a dark jungle. There are blisters and scars all along his body. He grabs a vine and pulls himself up, wincing as thorns grate his side. _

_ “—the one that saved—” _

_ A bright green light sweeps across a field of flowers. Then, the flowers start to bleed. _

_ “—and the one that died.” _

_ Dark wispy shadows fill Jeonghan’s vision. There’s blood everywhere, spilling out amongst the tortured screams from the smoke. _

_ “A final breath, one learns to love, and closing eyes flies far above.” _

_ There’s a falling body, surrounded by red and blue. Recognition fills Jeonghan’s mind instantly at the sight of a boy he’s seen mere moments ago. _

_ “One’s brightest smile shall lose its shine—” _

_ A clan of Yordles fills up the room. Tiny fluffy little creatures. Shapeshifters, the whole lot of them. Tricky creatures with an ever-present grin. Carefree. _

_ “—one’s twisted limbs to fight the vines.” _

_ Tendrils of purple and green wrap around a thin, impoverished body. There is a gasp and a puff of air coming out of the unidentifiable body. _

_ “Sun’s scorching rays to lose one’s life—” _

_ A boy, trekking through a desert with pain in his eyes. His arms carry a fragile body. _

_ “—moon’s soothing smile to give one light.” _

_ Another familiar face pops up, sat next to a window. There’s a river of red at his feet, pooling and bubbling like a cauldron. _

_ “A diamond heart to guide one home, where answers lay in past’s tome.” _

_ Runeterra’s deep jungle appears in view, a large canyon running through it. A heart sparkles in Jeonghan’s view, right in the middle of the canyon. _

_ “Rip in space, it shall be mended, with two lost souls finding their end. Though one’s old heart learns to forgive, the other loses his precious gift,” Dream-Jeonghan finishes, returning the room to its original state. Yellow fills Jeonghan’s vision, a haze of nothing and everything, with the visions tattooed at the forefront of his mind. Dream-Jeonghan smiles at him one last time, but there’s a suffocating sadness to it. Jeonghan turns and yells out. _

_ “What the hell was that?!” _

_ Dream-Jeonghan shakes his head. His gaze still rings with residual sadness, his smile now smashed into a thin line. _

_ “No, not hell. Only the watchers.” _

_ “Who the hell are the watchers?” Jeonghan yells. _

_ Dream-Jeonghan doesn’t respond. He simply fades away, leaving Jeonghan in this cursed yellow room with more questions than answers. _

_ “Wake up,” a voice calls out, “wake up, and find me. Find yourself. All will be answered then.” _

_ Jeonghan’s body goes limp. His vision blurs as his conscience returns to his body. He tries to scream, tries to claw back and demands answers, but nothing works. _

_ “Wake up,” the voice repeats. _

“WAKE UP!”


	7. This is the story of me saving you (JS + SC)

In hindsight, Jisoo should’ve probably moved them to a safer place before trying to wake Jeonghan up.

“Watch out!” he cried, barely able to catch Jeonghan before he slipped right off. Jisoo cursed himself mentally. He had expected a gentle wake up, but the moment Jeonghan got up he would’ve fallen off the little perch they were on anyway.

_ You’re slipping _ , Jisoo chides himself. Jeonghan’s fingers are practically blue from the cold, stuck between a field of snow and bone-chilling cold winds. Even Jisoo’s own cloak is futile against the biting cold. A weak cough sputters the life in Jeonghan’s chest. A yellow glow comes from his shoulder, exactly the same place Jisoo’s own glow often came from.

“What does yours do? Can it get us up?” Jisoo whispers gently. Jeonghan coughs again, a small hint of blood in his outburst and Jisoo instantly knows he isn’t in the right condition.

“Light. I can summon—”   
Jisoo shakes his head. “No, I’ll bring you up. Cheol—” Jisoo chokes up. The event tries to replay in his mind, but he brushes the thought away, “—Cheol brought us up far enough. It’s barely a walk.”

Jeonghan nods along, believing his words and closing his eyes to slump into Jisoo’s arms. The marksman looks up, gulping as he takes in the sight. Short would be an understatement and walk would be impossible. The rest of the way was at least a few flights of straight, vertical stone. Jisoo would need a miracle to get all the way up there alone, let alone with another body in tow. Jisoo huffs, hitching Jeonghan’s body onto his arms. A flash of Deja vu passes in his mind of a past situation just like the one he was in right now.

“Let’s get going then, darling,” Jisoo mutters under his breath. His mark glows red on command, tinting Jisoo’s vision in a shade of red he’s begun to see so often. A reminder of the open bloodshed he left last night resurfaces, and this time Jisoo welcomes it. He embraces the bloodlust, lets it overwhelm his body as he twists the spot of blood on the ground into the air. He stares into the mountain, looking a dead soul straight in the eye. He imagines frozen blood, rushing through the veins of these poor bodies and sucks in a deep breath.

With a roar, Jisoo pulls with all his might. The strands rush out of the mountain like a keg of mead being smashed by a hammer. Red fills the air, the unmistakable stench of blood drowning Jisoo’s every sense. He ignores it, twisting the strands into a basket of frozen blood, launching himself upward. The very task drains the living daylight out of him, barely any energy able to remain in his tired limbs. Still, Jisoo pushes on. They end up at the peak in a few minutes, dropped as gently as Jisoo could manage. He lets the blood rush back into the mountain, hoping no climbers will mind the waterfall of red on this side of the mountain.

“We made it,” Jisoo breathes, feeling relief in his bones. In front of him was a column of light, warm to even be near. It hummed with power, lighting up the entire sky like a beacon for the whole world. The platform they’re on is precarious, barely enough for two people. Jisoo gently sets his load down in the light, letting the magic heal Jeonghan. Jeonghan stirs in his arms, eyes fluttering open weakly.

“We made it,” Jisoo repeats, a little louder and with a smile this time. Jeonghan meets his eyes, confusion on his face. A hand shoots out, looking like it was aiming for Jisoo’s left eye. The boy flinched, but ultimately letting Jeonghan continue as he realizes he was going for his cheek. The smile on Jeonghan’s face is beautiful, knocking the air out of Jisoo’s lungs as he wipes a stray blotch of red on Jisoo’s face.

“Thank you,” Jeonghan says. Jisoo flushes, surprised at how wound up this beautiful stranger made him. They’ve barely even met.

_ But that’s where you’re wrong, my dear,  _ a voice thunders from above, a contrast to the pet name. Jisoo swivels his head to find the voice, yet Jeonghan’s eyes light up with recognition instead.

“You!” he calls. There’s a hint of anger and frustration in his voice, probably the harshest Jisoo’s ever heard him. And the loudest. But then again, he’s only just met the guy.

_ Wrong again, Joshua.  _ The voice laughs. Jisoo’s eyebrows touch his hair in surprise.

“How do you know that,” he hisses, now on his guard. The voice is silent. His only answer comes in the beam of light, travelling directly to their marks.

_ There is a time and place for everything, Hong Joshua. Soon, you will learn the full story of this world. For now… _

A laugh. Somehow, it’s creepier coming from a disembodied voice.

_ Your gods have bested me this time, finding a way to return your dreams to you. They will not be so fortunate next time. _

“Who are you?” Jisoo yells. There’s no response, only the pulsing thread of light connected to his arm. Jisoo looks over to Jeonghan, about to ask him what he makes of the voice when he sees Jeonghan’s expression.

“Jisoo?” he whispers, almost as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Jisoo’s face morphs into confusion, opening his mouth to ask before the vision came.

The sky exploded in a wave of light. The air is knocked out of his lungs, white spots dancing in his vision as Jisoo’s mind fills with memories yet again. There are two boys in every single one. A blond boy, who grows up to be more ethereal with every memory. He also grows to be more mischievous by the memory, eviler and ultimately more adorable. He spends all of his time in this yellow room with another boy, watching the rest of the world live their lives. In one memory, they were watching the mermaids dance and sing under the sea, chanting along with the unfamiliar tune two beats behind and entirely out of tune. Still, their giggles harmonize in a symphony of joy and content. In another, they’re following a hero through a forest, shouting at him every time he does yet another dumb thing, like reject the love of his life. The two boys vowed to be less dense than the hero they were watching.

In another memory, the sky was a beautiful sunset. Dream-boy stared at his companion with pure love and bliss, as if he could spend eternity in their little box, together forever. A beat of silence pass and they both lean into each other at the same time. The vision shifts, ever so slightly, and Jisoo finally sees the other boy.

He’s staring at the reflection of himself.

_ “I love you, Hannie,” _ Dream-Jisoo whispers. In this one he’s happy. He’s laughing and carefree, able to live and love without Demacia’s rules on his neck. In this one he’s loved, cherished and cared for, able to be whoever he wants to be, deep in the confines of a little, yellow room.

_ “I love you too, Shua,”  _ Dream-boy replies, and vision fades away.

The vision ends, leaving Jisoo to stare at Jeonghan on top of a too-cold mountain. Silence passes between them, the air palpable as Jisoo’s entire mind unravels.

“You— Jeong— I—“

A smile is on Jeonghan’s lips. Cute, cherry red lips, getting closer to Jisoo’s face. Wai—

“Hi, in the real world,” Jeonghan whispers when they pull apart. They’re left panting for air, yet Jisoo can’t find it in himself to care. He only grabs Jeonghan’s shirt and pulls him in again, heart nearly exploding as he finally understands his lack of joy in life.

“Hi, in the real world,” Jisoo whispers, relief in his features. Jeonghan’s grin is unmistakably beautiful. He falls onto Jisoo’s shoulder, hanging like a cat as he gazes down the mountain. There’s a tiny hitch in his breath, but it evens out so fast Jisoo barely notices it.

“What about your real-life crush?” Jeonghan breaks the silence. The memory comes back to Jisoo, building like a ball stuck in his throat as a choke slips out.

“He’s gone.”

Jeonghan hums. “Not like that, I don’t think. The dragon dove down to save him, right?”

Jisoo’s silent, not knowing how to respond. A part of him clings onto the hope that Seungcheol was fine down there, but another part dreads it. How could he break Seungcheol’s heart again, after so much?

“I don’t know,” Jisoo says flatly. Jeonghan pulls back and stares him in the eyes. He's exactly like his dream self, Jisoo realizes. The self Jisoo had fallen in love with. Fondness passes through his eyes.

“He’s quite a catch,” Jeonghan teases. Red erupts on Jisoo’s face.

“Jeonghan!”

The mentioned only laughs, eyes twinkling in mischief. “Let’s seduce him together, shall we? Let him understand that we’re a package deal. He’ll have to work twice as hard.”

Jisoo flushes. “But what about you?”

Something unrecognizable flashes through his eyes. A glint, of some kind. As if Jeonghan saw and knew something Jisoo didn’t.

“I did say he was a catch.”

Somewhere down below the cloud line, a body was caught. The winds have died down, leaving nothing but whistling gravity in Seungcheol’s ears. A familiar figure wraps around him, grumbling as it slowed Seungcheol’s descent.

“Hey girl,” Seungcheol smiled. Nayoung nuzzles her snout into his chest, her queue for wanting a head pat. Seungcheol complies, feeling his fall halt to a gentle stop.

“I take it they made it?”

A nod. Overhead, the sky exploded in a rush of light, yellow and light tendrils spreading like vines across the navy blue strip of starry skies. Nayoung start to bring Seungcheol up again, ready to rejoin the others. The trip is silent, only the soft hum of power from Seungcheol’s arm to accompany them. There’s a second pulse of light, except this one is so much stronger. A beam of light shoots downwards, striking Seungcheol’s straight in the chest. It doesn't hurt. No, instead, it sends a weird tingle down his spine, as if something just unlocked inside of him. He frowns, wondering what was happening. Brushing the thought off, Seungcheol meets Nayoung’s worried eyes.

“I’m fine,” he smiles. Nayoung seems to accept his answer, dropping Seungcheol off at a little outreach of land just under the peak. Then, she returns to his mark, leaving the boy in confusion.

“Can’t go higher?” he asks. The mark doesn’t reply, only glows ever so slightly. Seungcheol deduces it to be the mountain’s magic, turning towards the icy rock face to start his climb up. The sight he sees is terrifying, a frozen waterfall of blood and limbs.

_ Jisoo’s doing, no doubt _ , Seungcheol thinks. With a sigh, he grabs the first decently stable piece of ice and hoists himself up. It’s strangely warm to touch, like a little bit of encouragement for the last little bit of the climb for challengers. Seungcheol’s breath fogs the ice, almost able to hide the red behind it. A tiny pocket of blue greets him once in a while, like an island of purity amongst the path of destruction. Seungcheol thinks about the Demacian Marksmen, who calls Jisoo their ‘best weapon’ for his aim and brutal lack of emotion. He’s hollow, thoughtless and graceless, according to them, like something was completely missing from his soul. A frown finds itself onto Seungcheol’s face, but only for a moment before concentration overtakes him again. He can’t afford to slip again, after all.

And still, something bothers him. Jisoo was ruthless, sure, but he was human too. Seungcheol wonders what kind of life he must’ve had to create such doll-like demeanours from the Demacian. No life at all, he decided. Jisoo was simply a poor soul caught up in something he didn’t want to be in, and adjusted a little too well.

_ No matter,  _ Seungcheol thinks,  _ I’ll figure it out.  _ He pauses, thinking of the other boy. Jisoo seemed so instantly comfortable with him, for some odd reason. A pang strikes Seungcheol’s heart as the pieces click together. It made sense, after all. Jisoo was so secretive of his life, and the way he knew the day the other boy so well too…

“Well, that explains some things…” Seungcheol trails off, trying not to let it hurt. It was foolish to assume it was simply racism, after all. Focus snaps back to Seungcheol’s mind when he nearly slips, and the soldier welcomes it. Back to goal one, it is, figuring out what the hell these marks meant.

“...a catch,” a voice reaches Seungcheol’s ears, right as he grabs onto the very last ledge and hoists himself up. The scene is exactly what he expected, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Jeonghan meets his eyes over Jisoo’s shoulder, his arms clutching the other boy as they both kneel on the ground. Jisoo’s back is to him, blissfully unaware as Seungcheol’s heart finally shatters into a million pieces. The stare Jeonghan gives him is kind, yet infinitely pitiful, as if he’s apologizing through gaze alone. The moment is beautiful, the sight of two lovers being able to reunite after who knows how long. Seungcheol feels like he’s intruding, wishing he hadn't tried to make the climb back when Jisoo finally glances back. His eyes widen, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Ch-cheol?” Jisoo whispers. Immediately, Seungcheol is taken aback. His tone is so gentle, so vulnerable and so  _ unlike Jisoo _ . The nickname soars over Seungcheol’s head, not even registering before his mouth reacts first.

“Hi,” he smiles while his brain finally catches up to reality. The next thing he knows, Jeonghan is dragging him into their little group hug, squishing Jisoo between them. An odd sense of familiarity blooms in his heart as if this was a puzzle that finally clicked together. He meets Jeonghan’s eyes again, surprised to see such gentleness coming from someone who probably just tried to steal his boyfriend.

“I thought you died,” Jisoo breathes. Against his will, Seungcheol lets out a soft chuckle.

“It’ll take more than that to kill me, Soo-ah,” Seungcheol mumbles. Jisoo doesn’t even scowl at this, which raises every possible alarm in Seungcheol’s head. What the hell happened?

“We’ll explain later. Won’t we, Shua?” Jeonghan says. Seungcheol’s eyes widen, not realizing he said that out loud. The grin on Jeonghan’s face is shit-eating, as if he’s so smug to know something Seungcheol doesn’t. He probably does. Still, it doesn’t hurt any less.

“You know I don’t like that name, Hannie,” Jisoo scowls, looking every bit the soldier Seungcheol met a week ago. There’s surprise on Jeonghan’s face, but it’s counselled into apologetic soon enough.

“Sorry, Soo-ah.”

There’s grin on Jisoo’s face as if he had just figured out exactly everything that’s going on. It’s unnerving, almost, to see Jisoo smile so much after the scowl Seungcheol has learned to adore so much. Still, it’s infinitely adorable.

“Play nice, boys. Call a truce,” Jisoo sings-songs, and Seungcheol holds back the urge to laugh. He meets Jeonghan’s eyes again, calling a truce with the other boy. He’ll back off, of course, for they are meant for each other. Jeonghan’s eyes filled with sympathy, but they seem to agree at the same time.

“Truce,” both boys echo, absolutely lying.


	8. Two endings, both reaching the hands (JS)

“Well then,” Seungcheol cleared his throat, letting himself fall back into a crossed-legged seat, “what now?” Jeonghan hums in thought, eyeing Seungcheol as if he was sizing him up. Jisoo squints his eyes at this. Didn’t they just call a truce?

“I have no idea,” Jisoo muses, “although the big scary voice tells me we need to do something, at the very least.”

Jeonghan suddenly perks up. “Oh! There was something that happened. On the way up. In my dream.”

He told them about his dream, everything from the creepy poem thing to the flashes of scenery he saw, trying to describe as many people as possible. Jisoo winces when he talked about Seungcheol’s fall, and the knot only tightens when he hears of Jeonghan soaring down the sky too.

“It already happened,” Jeonghan reassures. Still, Jisoo can’t shake the terrible feeling in his gut. The dream continues, until the next part they can work with appears in a form that has both Jeonghan and Seungcheol scowling. Jisoo sits back, hanging his head low as he thinks about the vision.

“That’s Demacia, alright.”

Seungcheol growls. “If we don’t return there, we won’t have to see that part come true. It’s just a dream, right?”

Jeonghan barks a laugh. “There are enough death and rhymes in there to tell me it’s a prophecy, and that’s not how prophecies work.”

“But we could go against it,” Seungcheol argues, to which Jisoo simply shakes his head. “That never works. Read any story with a prophecy.”

Seungcheol frowns, “This is real life. Not a story.”

Jeonghan scoffs, “Where do you think stories come from?”

That shut him up. Jisoo almost feels bad for the guy.

“Regardless, going back is the best chance we have. The library about magic in Demacia is rather extensive, despite everything. Otherwise, I know a few ancient mage families hidden in the mountainside. If anyone can tell us anything about the marks, it’ll be them,” Jisoo explains. Seungcheol’s brow dips impossibly lower, his scowl looking so out of place on his face. Or maybe Jisoo was too used to seeing his fond smile instead.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Jeonghan sighs, hanging his head and leaning them into his knees. He turns to Jisoo, not caring for the strands of hair falling over his eyes. Jisoo returns his gaze with a smile, trying to reassure him. He’s pretty sure, no, he’s certain the Mageseekers will find him. They’ve always been phenomenal at sniffing out traitors. Still, Jisoo hopes they can reach his old caregiver first.

“We don’t really have a choice. It’s the closest source that has a high chance of information. It’s not like they’ll catch me on sight,” Jisoo points out. The glare Jeonghan sends him is bone-chilling as he tries to argue with gaze alone, but Jisoo holds his ground. Over to his side, Seungcheol sighs.

“I’ve been over the Noxian archives and magic community for years. There’s nothing I can contribute. Going back to Targon would be a death sentence, considering how the Solari treats their guests. Shurima is all but ruins, trying to extract anything would take ages in that desert. The Frelijord is most definitely useless, for we have no idea where to even begin…”

He lets out another sigh.

“Demacia it is, then.”

_ 04:23 AM, 17/12, 2127 years after Noxus _

_ “SHUA! LOOK!” A squeaky voice calls out. Joshua looks away from the mesmerizing coral reefs of Marai to discover land. He bounces over to his nighttime best friend, practically tackling him as they peek over the water to see land. The dream room kept them dry and toasty throughout the entire journey underwater, only popping out to startle nearby magical fish. They started at the very edge of Marai territory, just off the coast of Targon. There had been a festival that day, deep in the heart of the Marain capital. The mermen were cut off from the rest of the world, joyfully celebrating while the rest of the world is fighting one another. Joshua shakes the thought of real life. This is his sanctuary, and no bad thoughts can ever invade it. _

_ “IS THAT YOUR HOME?” Joshua yells, excited eight-year-old legs flapping as Jeonghan nods with a wide beam. _

_ “Do you reckon I could find you over there? You’re near the base, right?” Joshua rambles, squinting his eyes to see further. His arm glows and tickles, making him feel all funny inside as his vision zones into the distance. He’s never really stopped to ask how that works. It’s just a cool little trick. _

_ “I think it’s on the other side though… I’ve never seen the ocean before,” Jeonghan says, pout on his lips. Joshua’s heart falls at the sight, feeling a strange little squeeze in his chest at the sight of his crestfallen bestie. _

_ “Well, now you have! What do you think? Much better than the mountains we’re used to, right?” Joshua tries, feeling proud as Jeonghan manages a soft smile. _

_ “You’re right! So many more colours! Better than the gray rocks I see all day.” _

_ Joshua smiles so wide his face scrunches up, trying to commit the corals to heart. His awake self would never remember it, but Dream-Joshua could have this playing in his mind for his entire life. Jeonghan leans into Joshua’s hug, two best friends watching as their little dream pocket takes them to the festival again. Jeonghan’s hair was starting to turn blond from magic usage in his daily life, little yellow locks that gradually take over his black canvas underneath. Joshua decided that he liked this colour a little more. _

In all honesty, Jisoo was more than a little terrified coming home. Evenmoor’s mountain perch sat over Demacia’s southern mountain range like a watchtower. Its ancient petricite walls kept the magic out of the town, but also to keep the magic inside. Ever since the battle between the mages and the Demacian forces one hundred years ago right on this site, the walls sat there more to make the higher-ups sleep better at night. That, and one hundred children taken to the capital for ‘training’. But Jisoo knew better. Training was simply Demacia’s synonym for brainwashing. A great nation founded on valour and honour, now running on propaganda and secrets. It breaks something in Jisoo to see his beloved hometown in such conditions. Evenmoor used to be a beacon of shelter and sanctuary to those running from Demacia’s iron fist. It fought for its freedom, and Demacia decided that would no longer be tolerated. Jisoo wonders if he would ever have learnt the truth, had he not rediscovered his dream self. He was meant to learn the truth, according to whatever gods that have marked him. Deep in the secluded town was an old mansion. Jisoo couldn’t call it home, per se, for he was simply tolerated there. As were the other orphans, Jisoo guessed. Although his slightly different flavour of magic didn’t allow for much socialization back then. His only companion was the little teddy bear he retained throughout his abandonment, still sitting in his tiny room in the mansion’s third floor, five doors down on the left. Mistress had promised to take care of little Samuel for Jisoo. A grin finds itself onto Jisoo’s face at the reminder of a simpler life. One he had before his dream-self had been isolated. Jisoo suspects it was the diluted petricite the higher-ups had injected every one of the children to boost resistance to magic. Jisoo wonders what Mistress will think of his story now, riddled with everything she taught

A small step in front of Jisoo, Jeonghan gives their intertwined hands a little squeeze. Jisoo’s brought back to reality as he spots the entrance back home, just a little further down this mountain. They had been travelling by dragon and light platforms, walking above the clouds to conceal themselves. Jisoo’s guess had been correct, landing right on the southern mountainous part of Demacia. The guards are checking an incoming caravan, talking to the driver about two hour’s march from their position. The skies overhead are clear. Too clear. They’ll have to lay low. As if he was reading Jisoo’s mind, Seungcheol dismisses his dragon spirit and sets his sword down.

“Let’s make camp. The town’s close enough. We’ll figure out a plan later,” Seungcheol proposes. It sounds almost like an order, running under Jisoo’s skin like a bad habit. Jeonghan frowns.

“Who died and made you the boss?” Jeonghan snaps, annoyance in his voice. Jisoo frowns at this, confused as to why Jeonghan was acting like this. Wasn’t he the one who said they’d give Seungcheol a chance? The aforementioned’s eyes narrow, opening his mouth before Jisoo steps in gently.

“It was just a suggestion, Hannie. We’ll work on delivery,” Jisoo glares at the Noxian soldier, “won’t we?”

Seungcheol’s face relaxes, realizing his words. He mumbled an apology, which Jeonghan is calm enough to take.

“Fine by me,” Jeonghan growls.

The sky is a pretty shade of red and orange by the time they settle down. There’s a crackling fire in the middle of their triangle, the only sounds in the quiet canvas of the night. Slowly, Jisoo lets out a sigh.

“What do you propose we do tomorrow?”

Jeonghan shrugs while Seungcheol’s eyes simply harden. He’s thinking. Planning. Probably coming up with two to three backup plans just like his training has taught him to do. 

_ There it is again _ , Jisoo thought,  _ ‘Training’.  _ He brushes off the thought, focusing instead on Seungcheol.

“Cheol?” Jisoo calls out, ignoring the look of surprise on Seungcheol’s face. Jeonghan mouths the word as if testing out the word himself. A dry laugh bubbles in Jisoo’s throat. Testing him. Huh. Okay.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol clears his throat, snapping Jisoo out of his thoughts.

“You seem to have a plan,” Jisoo prompts. Seungcheol shrugs.

“Maybe. It’s not a good one though.”

Jeonghan scoffs, breaking into the conversation. “Better a bad one than none at all,” he says. He then scoots in closer, sitting right next to Jisoo. A blush creeps up Jisoo’s neck when Jeonghan drops his head onto his shoulder. Seungcheol, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch at this. Poor guy. He must be subjected to these things a lot. Jisoo will have to talk to Jeonghan about his testing methods at a later time.

“We could hide in a caravan, but they’ll check that. Any nighttime sneak is bound to fail, with the number of guards at night. There’s no other entrance, with those fortified walls. We can’t fly in. Not without being caught within the first five minutes, of course. They planned this well. Even the guard changes are staggered to guarantee a watch. Getting into that stronghold would take a miracle,” Seungcheol voices his thoughts. Jisoo nods in agreement. He’s never gotten the chance to return home, but the higher-ups had assured everyone it was ‘secure and watched’. It’s strange, how a town teeming with life could become a prison in such a short frame of time.

“What’s your point?” Jeonghan asks, pretending to sound irritated. Seungcheol, once again, is absolutely unaffected. Jisoo wonders how many difficult people he’s had to deal with.

“We’re going to get caught anyway, but scaling the walls is our best bet for now. If we could root one or two guards in place without them realizing, we can slip in. I’m not sure how the Mageseekers work, but I think we’ll have a few hours at the very least,” Seungcheol explains. Jisoo nods, understanding his part in this.

“We’ll have two hours, tops. I’m sure Mistress can point us in the right direction during it. That is, assuming the mansion is still where it was when I left. It’s likely we’ll have to fight our way out, though. I’m not sure how many Seekers have been assigned here, I assume lots, given that Evenmoor is Demacia’s prison for the magical.”

Seungcheol nods in acknowledgement. Jeonghan hums from Jisoo’s shoulder, an excited grin spreading on his normally gentle features.

“It’s time to meet the family.”


	9. Let me hear “I love you” (SC)

“Careful!” Jisoo hisses. Seungcheol turns around and looks down. Jeonghan’s hanging on to the makeshift climbing holds by his fingertips, the other hand barely grasping the yellow energy strands he uses to create the climbing holds above. His last fingers gradually slip, leaving him in free fall. Seungcheol glances up to meet Jisoo’s worried gaze, still concentrated on stalling. Seungcheol lets go, calling Nayoung out to catch his fall as he grabs ahold of Jeonghan’s arm. He’s barely fallen at all, just a little way down. His expression is sharp, almost panicky when Seungcheol loops his arms around Jeonghan’s waist to pull him closer. Jeonghan looks up to meet Jisoo’s eyes, having a silent conversation that ends in Jisoo giving him a smile. Jisoo’s posture relaxes a little, less tense as he continues to climb.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan whispers. A million thoughts fly around in Seugcheol’s head, the ever-familiar sense of confusion taking over. Yoon Jeonghan is an enigma in every sense, acting friendly one moment and hostile the next. Trying to decipher him would be like trying to find a golden scale on a silver wyvern’s underbelly. Regardless, Seungcheol brings them upwards. Jeonghan clings onto his shoulder, a firm grip that has Seungcheol raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t wanna fall,” Jeonghan mumbles, a blush creeping upon his face.

“Didn’t you climb a mountain?” Seungcheol teases. Jeonghan flushes in embarrassment, although it is short-lived as they touch down onto the solid ground. Jisoo’s scrunched up face greets them, sweat beading at his chin in concentration. 

“Let’s hurry. We don’t know how much time we have. Mistress’ house isn’t here,” Jisoo whispers, still trying to stay quiet and inconspicuous despite the rising panic in his tone. Quickly, Seungcheol flings himself and Jeonghan over the inner wall’s ledge, letting themselves fall into the fortress city before looking up to meet Jisoo’s eyes before he lets go. Jisoo’s hand falters for a moment, returning control to the guards for a blink of an eye as Seungcheol pulls him down the inner part of the wall. He can hear the guards curse overhead, probably confused as to whatever just happened to them. Before they touch the ground, Jeonghan summons up a net of light, softly catching the trio and bouncing them under an overpass. A little brown-haired boy by the walls gives them wide eyes, looking like he was about to shout before Jisoo clears his throat. He pulls out a badge, showing it to the child.

“I’m a seeker, don’t worry. Just bringing these two into custody,” he explains, tone cold and angry, as if Seungcheol and Jeonghan were the banes of his life. Surprisingly, the child only widens his eyes even further. He clings onto his teddy bear like a lifeline, the other hand fumbling for the edge of his beige shirt as his feet move to leave. Jisoo seems to catch this, shooting him a compassionate smile before the boy runs away.

“Of course, that’s what we’re showing to everyone,” Jisoo stage-whispers as if it’s some big secret. It really is, to be honest. Red energy dances along Jisoo’s fingers, which seems to calm the boy down. Seungcheol walks over to him, crouching so he could look at the kid in the eye. He smiles, hoping to soothe the boy down further.

“Hey, kiddo. We’re looking for someone named the ‘Mistress’,” Seungcheol starts, faltering off when the boy’s eyes light up like Giving Day lights in excitement. The boy tugs on his sleeve, starting to pull him into the busy streets. Seungcheol ducks his head down, pulling the hood Jisoo gave him over his head. The thin black fabric barely helps, although it hides Seungcheol’s wondrous expression at least. The child pulls him straight through the forum, although he has enough common sense to stay near the walls. Or maybe it’s survival instincts if Demacia’s Mage Seekers are as good as they seem. From the way Jisoo talked of the marksmen alone, Seungcheol weighs the second explanation a little heavier. The forum was a beautiful mismatch of blue, green, yellow and every colour possible, looking like a vibrant rainbow amidst the dark black of the night. Even the lights float in a multitude of colours, dancing above the forum like lanterns on New Year’s Eve. Seungcheol briefly wonders how magic was even allowed to be used in such beautiful ways, decorating the night sky of a nation that paraded its hate for magic like a banner. Even in his home nation, Seungcheol’s never seen such beautiful colours like these before. Magic was always used as a weapon, or was simply tolerated. There had been no room for such beauty in the dreary confines of the Immortal Bastion. Stone gray. It’s strange, to find such a breathtaking sight in a nation that despised magic.

“Who is this Mistress, by the way?” Seungcheol asks Jisoo. The archer’s mouth twitches, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite find the motivation to.

“An old friend. She hid me for most of my childhood,” Jisoo explained. It wasn’t really helpful, per se, nor informative, but Seungcheol has long learned what those phrases meant.

“What happened?”

Jisoo grimaces. “I… rebelled. Couldn’t sit still. The Mage Seekers found me. Didn’t find the others though. Mistress wasn’t exactly pleased.”

Seungcheol hums in acknowledgement, returning his attention to the boy. He’s slowed down now, heading towards a large house the size of seven normal ones. He turns to Jisoo for a reaction, yet not even a hint of familiarity was found.

“She must’ve moved after I left. Too much residue magic, I assume,” Jisoo mutters, so softly Seungcheol assumes he wasn’t meant to hear it. Further behind him, Jeonghan sucks in a breath. Seungcheol turns to the door they stopped at, an ornate design of gold and silver vine-like swirls that ultimately led to a lion knocker. It holds a ring in its silver jaw, golden vines twisting along the metal on top of the wooden board. Upon closer inspection, Seungcheol can see tiny hints of magical energy imbued on the door, probably a defensive measure. Their guide runs off as soon as they arrive, leaving the trio to gaze at the door in anxiety. Seungcheol hesitates, wondering if he should knock or not. Jisoo deserved to be the first to reunite, and it would definitely spark less hostility in their meeting compared to the towering sword on Seungcheol’s back. Yet, this Mistress hasn’t been pleased to see him leave, either.

Jeonghan sighs, interrupting their thoughts as he marches towards the door, letting out a murmur of ‘for Moon’s sake’ as he grabs the knocker. He hits it thrice, letting the sound echo before letting the knocker fall again. The lion twitches, making Seungcheol jump as it blinked its stony eyes.

“Who comes?” the knocker calls. Jisoo clears his throat, moving forwards as if to signal ‘I’ve got it’ to his companions.

“It’s Joshua. I’m looking for Mistress? I heard she’s—“

The door swings open violently. From behind it, a woman with disheveled brown hair steps out. There’s gray strands everywhere, and something tells Seungcheol that wasn’t a style choice. Her expression is a mix of confusion, surprise, worry and disbelief, all mixed into a slightly agape mouth and big, motherlike eyes.

“Joshua?” she exclaims, tears biting at the corners of her eyes. Jisoo shifts on his feet, clear discomfort on his face as he tries to manage a smile.

“Jisoo, now.”

The woman waves him off, stepping out into the streetlight as she envelops him in a big hug. She’s at least half a head shorter than him, yet her hold is so firm and strong Seungcheol could see Jisoo quiver under the hug.

“Jisoo, Joshua, doesn’t matter. How’ve you been? How is your new life? How’d you escape—wait, tell me inside. If you’re here, the Seekers will surely find out,” the woman rambles off, momentarily stopping herself to look at Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Jeonghan gives her a curious look, while Seungcheol tries for a more friendly smile. The woman flushes, smoothing the creases out of her burgundy work dress. She sends them a practiced smile, one with sincere pleasure as she holds her dress’s edges and curtsies.

“And who might you two be?” she asks.

Seungcheol replies with “a friend” at the same time as Jeonghan smirks and says “a boyfriend”. The woman is momentarily taken aback before she smiles even wider and moves towards Jeonghan. She pinches his cheeks, earning a surprised yelp out of him as she inspects his impoverished arms.

“Thin, physically weak,” she sniffs the air, “and a little dirty. Does he make you happy?” The woman turns to Jisoo. The boy nods sheepishly, embarrassment in his flushed cheeks as he watches Jeonghan gets inspected. The woman seems satisfied, dusting off Jeonghan’s shirt before turning to Seungcheol. The boy braces himself for the sweep down, but the woman didn't even move towards him. A sigh escapes her lips.

“Why you go for the pretty ones over the handsome ones, I’ll never understand. If he makes you happy though, I suppose I can work with frail. Come,” she concludes, turning on her heels as she gestures them in. “I’ll ask Yerim to draw you a bath later. Dinner is in a few minutes, after all. We’ll have time to chat.”

Jeonghan clears his throat, trying to get her attention. The woman simply glares at him, silencing him with her gaze.

“You will come. The Seekers will not find you here. If I can hide twenty children, I can hide three more. The Mistress‘ home is a shelter for all homeless mages,” she states firmly. Seungcheol nods dumbly, following her inside before daring to speak up again.

“And what should we call you… um, Miss…”

The woman stopped in her tracks, sweet smile on her features as she regards Seungcheol.

“Wendy is fine. Only the children call me Mistress.”

They’re introduced to three more women and a girl, apparently the house staff and caretakers. Two of them, Irene and Seulgi, brings them tea and biscuits as well as some relaxing bandages for their tired muscles. Another one, who insists on being called Joy, takes their things and tucks them away to help the boys feel more comfortable. Yerim ducks in and out of sight, playing with the other children while eyeing the three strangers in their house with suspicion. Wendy seems to be protective of her though, so Seungcheol decides not to interact. There’s only so many mothers he can charm, and Wendy doesn’t seem like one of the normal mothers.

“Sit,” Wendy commands, gesturing at the couches. The leather on them is dark red, velvety to touch as Seungcheol seats himself. Wendy pours them tea, giving them her tiny little white teacups with flowery designs on it. Jisoo seems to recognize it, faltering as he holds the cup to his lips without drinking it. Wendy gives him a small smile.

“You always liked this set. Nearly cried when Dongwan broke one. He’s not with you, from what I see,” Wendy says. Jisoo’s lips thin, but he takes a polite sip anyways. The other two follow suit, letting the tea sit for a little longer as they wait for Jisoo to answer.

“I ran away. Dongwan came to our crew later, but he doesn’t need protection. Not with his newfound love for the art of murder,” Jisoo replies hollowly. Seungcheol lets the statement sink in, slowly coming to realize Jisoo’s not the only cold one in the Demacian army. Apparently all the mage children had been ‘specially conditioned’ and put into an attack squad. Perhaps their famed ruthless bloodlust came with the training.

Wendy grimaces at his statement. “Such a shame. He was such a bright child too. But enough about your lost brothers, tell me about what happened, and why you’re here.”

And he does. Seungcheol and Jeonghan jumps in every now and again to add details and explanations of their marks and odd visions. Wendy watches without reactions, only encouragement in her eyes. By the time their story ends, the cups are empty, and the biscuits half eaten. Seungcheol realizes that they’ve been starving for the past few days, surviving on bare minimum rations and hunt. Wendy takes note of this, of course. Seungcheol has a feeling they’ll be stuffed full later.

Wendy sighs. “I don’t know how to help you with your mark problem right now. Neither do I have a clue about your mysterious prophecy.”

Seungcheol’s shoulders droop, disappointment overtaking him.

“I do, however, know something that might be valuable,” she proposes. The room perks up, nearly leaning in to hear more. Wendy only smiles sadly.

“Not good news. You see, the moment you two disappeared,” she gestures at Seungcheol and Jisoo, “the nation declared Jisoo a mage. He’s to be captured at first sighting, and his Noxian friend will double the reward for that. Failure to comply will result in punishment. By taking you in, I’ve already endangered everyone in this house.”

Jisoo’s eyes widen. “What?”

Wendy’s eyes are even sadder. “The old mansion still stands. I just live here for the time being. The lids can be snuck out tonight and to the mansion, but you three need to find a way out as soon as possible. I can feed you, give you a change of clothes and maybe some supplies, but then you must run. The Seekers are not too pleased to hear a traitor among their ranks. I fear you may have been found already, actually. For now, all I can tell you is to look for the others in your prophecy. The obvious clues are Frelijord’s mysterious fortress, The Frost Citadel, and Shurima’s countless tombs,” Wendy explains. Jeonghan winces at her words, probably mentally smacking himself in the face for not recognizing such obvious landmarks in the vision. Seungcheol’s hand wanders on top of the Aspect’s, feeling light tendrils on his fingers as he squeezes it reassuringly. Then, he stares Wendy straight in the eye.

“Thank you, for everything. We wish we could repay you for your kindness.”

Wendy waves him off.

“That’s needless. Just return that one,” she points to Jisoo, “to me safely. Even if it’s just visits.”

Seungcheol hesitates, training ingrained in him to never promise that. One can never guarantee life, after all. Only two things are certain in life; death and Tariffs. Despite that, Jeonghan gives him a hand squeeze, as if to return the favour.

“We promise.”

Wendy smiles. “Well then, what are we waiting for? I think roast chicken is calling us.”


	10. Finding each other, loving each other (JH)

“The ward will disappear the moment I leave the boundary. I trust you’ll be far from here by then?” Wendy asks. Jeonghan looks up, hands still tying his boots, in reflex. His coat is a little loose on the shoulders, although the caretaker has reassured him he’ll grow into it soon enough. Seungcheol stands in front of the petite woman, trying to give her a reassuring nod. He’s wearing his normal attire of black and more black, a long overcoat with too many buckles on it. The silver lines on it seems to hum with power, like his dragon was itching for a fight. He seems every bit the fearsome weapon of the Noxian army. Jisoo stood next to him, a silver cloak on his back that catches the moonlight to camouflage him. His bow was strapped on his back, magicked to conceal its many gemstones. The quiver was full of silver-tipped arrows, covered by the tiniest hint of dried blood. Jisoo claims it was from previous fights and he hasn’t had the time to clean them, although Jeonghan can tell it’s for him to use his gift on. Standing shoulder to shoulder, cramped in the little front door room of Wendy’s shelter, they looked like fear in its purest form. Seungcheol’s sword glints in the light, barely out of its sheath for easier access. If Jeonghan was the enemy, he’d probably pee in his pants and scramble away.

“They’ll scent you almost immediately. If you are caught, you’ll most likely be taken to the capital and tried for Demacia’s greatest crime, magic. From there, you’ll have a public execution to set an example. Don’t even try to rescue one another. It’ll end in certain death. Most likely,” Wendy warns them, buckling her boots before handing Seungcheol a tiny ruby. It twinkles in the light, a tiny hint of pure red. The rest of the children scramble in the background, slipping out the back door. Wendy places her hands on Seungcheol’s hands, two tiny and delicate palms on his one big one. A tiny voice in Jeonghan’s voice finds the size difference ridiculously hot, trying to imagine his own hand on there instead. With a flush, he turns away and finishes tying his boots.

“This is a one time chance. It’ll blast a supercharge of magic in a small radius. You can use it to defend, attack, propel or whatever you want,” she grips his hand, nails digging into the side as she fixes her gaze into his eyes.

“Bring him home.”

Seungcheol nods solemnly. “Yes ma’am.”

They were discovered almost immediately, just like Wendy had warned.

“We’ll be overrun before we can reach the gate!” Jeonghan yells over the chaos. He brings up another light shield, blocking the flying arrows from hitting any more civilian mages in the forum. His coat swings to follow his motion, sweeping over the arrow littered ground as three whizzed past his cheeks on both sides. Jeonghan sucks in a breath, trying to stay as still as possible as he watches Jisoo snipe down three of his former comrades. Big wounds, Jeonghan can tell, but not enough to kill. A fondness blooms in his heart, reassured that Jisoo was still the same peaceful spirit he fell in love with in his dreams. The arrows slow down after a while, a momentary break for them to keep on running.

“Hurry!” Seungcheol yells. Jeonghan turns back to him, jumping into his dragon’s hold as they fly straight up. Jisoo breaks his arrows against three others, covering their retreat as Jeonghan blocks the javelins thrown from a little closer. The overpass they ducked under yesterday stands over the rest of the Mage Seekers like a giant, seeming to strike fear in all of the mages. Yet today, it covered their retreat, refusing to take their magic. Somehow, it felt like even the town was trying to help them. The trio lands on the wall they scaled just a few hours before immediately launching into defense as projectiles fly overhead. A swordsman charges at them with a yell and swings, to which Seungcheol easily sidesteps. He elbows the guy, swinging his sword in a short arc and cutting off the guard’s sword in half. He too, aimed to disarm and not maim. It’s frustrating, how this unfairly hot guy was perfectly Jeonghan’s type. Big, strong, heroic with a big heart. Even Wendy had practically fallen in love. Jeonghan couldn’t even be jealous on Jisoo’s behalf. Seungcheol was THAT kind of perfect. He tosses the swordsman to the side like a ragdoll, letting him fall onto the scaffolding a little ways down. Three more charge at him, only to be knocked down in a single swing. Despite this, more run towards him.

“Oh come on! Did you not just see what happened?!” Seungcheol whines, sounding like a little kid. 'Adorable', Jeonghan’s brain whispers. Behind him, Jisoo knocks two arrows and fires them in rapid succession, pinning the soldiers up the wall. He looks indifferent, as if he didn’t just put two people onto the wall. The contrast is kind of scary to watch, Jeonghan notes.

“Let’s go—“ Jisoo starts.

“Going so soon?” a voice calls out. Jeonghan whips his head up, searching for the voice. It came from a singular marksman, bow trained on Jisoo as he regards him with pure hatred in his eyes.

“Dongwan,” Jisoo hisses, eyes narrowing at his former friend. The tension between them is palpable, almost suffocating to watch. Seungcheol meets Jeonghan’s eyes and nods, sending a silent signal for him to move first. He is, after all, the least fit for battle amongst them.

“Hello, old friend. Or should I say, wretched mage,” Dongwan smiles, although it’s full of poison, Jisoo growls, jumping into action as he moves forward. Dongwan lets the arrow fly, glee in his eye before Seungcheol dives forwards and snatches it out of the air. Jisoo uses Seungcheol as a foothold, boosting himself to shoot an arrow from above. It punctures Dongwan’s shoulder, a scream ripping through the air and moving Jeonghan into action. He vaults himself over the low wall, summoning a net of light at the bottom to catch their fall. Seungcheol follows suit, dragon swirling around them to slow their descent and catching Jisoo as he falls down. The escape was flawless, a seamless movement into freedom. Jeonghan smiles at it, relief through his veins as the walls fade out, only Dongwan’s murderous expression left in view.

“We did i—“

An arrow pierces through the air, stabbing Seungcheol’s left arm. It was the same one his mark was on, and it made the dragon falter. Jisoo’s head whips up at the source, panic in his eyes as he sees Dongwan knocking another arrow. His hand fumbles along Seungcheol’s coat, fishing out a small ruby the size of a fist. Then, he turns to Jeonghan, a sad smile on his face as he whispers softly.

“I love you.”

The ruby was thrown, and the world exploded into silence. Jisoo leapt from his fall, using the explosion to propel himself up and pulling out a small hunting knife. A ringing noise takes over Jeonghan’s ears as a scream is tipped from his throat. His back landed on his net, a soft landing as he sees Seungcheol cover him with his dragon from the falling debris. Up above, the ruby’s red shards sprinkle down in a rain of red. Red crystals, and red blood. A body follows suit, falling limp onto the ground as Jeonghan watches the top of the wall in horror. Jisoo’s arm is caught by another marksman, despair in his eyes as he watches his comrades broken body at the bottom.

Dongwan is dead, and Jisoo is right next in line.

_ 02:38 AM, 13/03, 2129 years after Noxus _

_ There was an old story. One of a valiant hero of Demacia, saving the nation from a wild wyvern attack. Joshua and Jeonghan watched in awe as they followed the story, screaming when scary wyverns cornered their hero and exclaiming in joy when he beat the wyverns. Joshua watched the battle scenes in disgust, not wanting to see the bloodshed right in front of his eyes. Jeonghan, on the other hand, was too engrossed in the big, strong hero to notice. Joshua expressed his distress after the dream, pouting when Jeonghan sheepishly admitted he wasn’t paying attention. _

_ “What’s so bad about it anyway?” Jeonghan tried to appease his friend. Joshua wrinkled his nose in distaste. _

_ “My real life self likes it too much. He likes all the bad things too, like torturing mages and killing. He even gave himself another name, y’know. Trying to bury his mage roots and all…” Joshua mumbles, ashamed of a side of him he couldn’t control. Jeonghan squeezes his shoulders in reassurance. _

_ “Just you wait. You’ll be reunited with yourself soon, and you can give him a bog scolding!” _

_ Joshua smiled weakly. _

_ “Okay.” _

“We need to rescue Shua,” Jeonghan says, sitting down onto the damp mountain forest floor. Seungcheol sighs, ruffling his own hair in frustration and wincing when he feels the arrow in his upper arm. Jeonghan feels guilt in his gut at the sight. If only he had been faster, he could’ve blocked the arrow. If only he had been—

“Don’t. Blaming yourself will do no good now,” Seungcheol reprimands him, despite not even hearing anything. Jeonghan frowns.

“I didn’t even say anything?”

Seuncheol smiles sadly, wincing in pain the second he meets Jeonghan’s eyes. “Noxians don’t verbalize a lot of emotions.”

Jeonghan’s heart squeezes at the statement, wondering what happened to Seungcheol’s parents for him to be so sad and happy at the same time. He stands up and glides over to Seungcheol, sitting down next to the soldier and inspecting his wound. The soldier flinches, but relaxes once he realizes Jeonghan’s intention.

“Do you have a cloth? We’ll need to fasten the wound,” Jeonghan mumbles. Seungcheol nods, using his good arm to pull out a little handkerchief. There’s a small Demacia’s symbol on it. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. Seungcheol shrinks sheepishly.

“Wendy gave it to me. Said she had a feeling we’d need to treat a wound. She also gave me some salve, although I’m not sure it’ll do much to a wound of this size,” Seungcheol admitted. Jeonghan nods in response, fastening his hands on the arrow as he crouches in front of Seungcheol.

“Hold still,” Jeonghan says, tying the cloth around the upper part of his arm before squeezing it with all of his might. Then, he yanked with all his might. Seungcheol’s absolutely silent in his pain, only scrunching up his face as the arrow came out clean. Jeonghan quickly discards it, using the edge of his coat to clean up the wound before turning to Seungcheol again. He looks at Jeonghan with curiosity, as if he’s trying to decipher him. Jeonghan preens under the attention, shooting a small smile before opening his mouth to speak.

“What?”

“What is it with you?”

Jeonghan frowns. “What do you mean?”

Seungcheol sighs, leaning back against a tree trunk as he watches Jeonghan with scrutiny.

“It’s like,” he begins, searching for the right words, “one moment you’re arguing with every word that comes out of my mouth. Another you’re fussing over me like you couldn’t bear losing me. And then you glare daggers into me every time I so much as talk to Soo, but then immediately try to cling onto me like a parasite. What is it with you, Enigma?”

Jeonghan flushes, not realizing how obvious his other side has been. Seungcheol was, after all, everything Jeonghan has ever dreamed of. It seems a little redundant to say Jeonghan was a healthy amount of obsessed with him.

“I have my secrets,” he says instead. Seungcheol is infinitely frustrated with this answer, but Jeonghan takes that moment to lean into the other boy, moving fast and keeping a bare minimum distance between them. His hand is on the elder’s thigh, the other one against the tree as his gaze flickers downwards. Seungcheol’s lips are bright red, a delicious looking piece of fine culinary that Jeonghan wishes he could just melt against. Unfortunately, he has other pressing concerns. Sighing, Jeonghan lets himself fall onto Seungcheol’s good shoulder, practically sitting on his lap as he thinks of his other lover.

“We need to rescue Shua. That’s our first priority,” Jeonghan says, although he sounds worlds away. Seungcheol lets out a frustrated little noise above, and Jeonghan takes solace in it.

“How about a deal. We rescue Soo, and then you explain whatever the hell your problem is with me,” Seungcheol says, exasperation in his tone. A smirk sneaks up in Jeonghan’s face as he buries his nose into Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“Deal,” he replies.

Seungcheol sighs again for the umpteenth time that day.


	11. Please take my "I love you" (JS)

_ 8 hours and 58 minutes,  _ Jisoo counts in his mind. They’ve kept him stuck in this tiny prison cell for 8 hours and 38 minutes. The stupid gray and black swirl of petricite surrounds his every sense, so much that even Jisoo’s anti-liquid-petricite mark magic refused to work. He knew this because he just tried to heal his wrist wounds, to no avail. Jisoo punches the wall in frustration, startling the guard outside. He must be new, or at least not very experienced, because he’s practically shaking in fear. Good, let them know Jisoo’s angry.

_ 8 hours and 59 minutes,  _ the trained clock in Jisoo’s head chimes. He has half a mind to knock that stupid ingrained habit out of his brain. Nothing good came out of it anyway. It was Demacian policy to wait at least 12 hours for a rescue before trying to find a way out on your own. Jisoo almost wants to laugh at that bloodthirsty, robotic and cold side of himself. Somehow, he wishes he never even reunited with himself. Not when it resulted in nothing but pain. He wonders if his sacrifice was successful, wonders if Jeonghan and Seungcheol made it out alright. This was exactly what the prophecy forsaw, down to the gentle moonlight on his hair tonight. It seems almost sarcastic, that line, for all Jisoo could see was darkness, darkness and more darkness. Tomorrow, they’ll execute him in front of the public, no trial whatsoever. Why would they bother, when Jisoo was everything they loathed? A traitor, a murderer, an enemy, but worst of all, a magic-user.

_ 9 hours,  _ Jisoo’s brain chimes again. He scowls, pushing away the stupid ticking noise in his head. Almost instantly, he regrets it as he hopelessly traces through the day of his capture again. Minhyun had been the one to catch him, watching as Dongwan fell to his death, dagger in his heart. The bloodlust in Jisoo craved it, sending chills of pleasure down Jisoo’s spine. The rest of him revolted at it, wanting to eat itself in guilt. Minhyun’s expression dosen’t help, full of disbelief, betrayal and pure rage. He had the choice to let Jisoo go right then, hoping to kill him the same way he killed Dongwan. But Minhyun was rational, above all. He knew Jeonghan would’ve caught Jisoo anyway, so he chose the longer but more certain way to guarantee Jisoo’s death. His eyes were merciless as they took Jisoo in, the same hollow orbs Demacia conditioned into young mages for ‘the greater good’. Jisoo scoffs at the thoughts.

_ 9 hours and 1 minute,  _ Jisoo’s brain reminds him. With a groan, Jisoo falls back against the wall, letting his head roll towards the window. He gazes at the moon in challenge, telling it with his gaze to hurry up and ‘give me light’ already. He doesn’t have all day for this shit show it was trying to make him decipher. The moon, unsurprisingly, does not answer back. The prophecy was utter bullshit, he realized. The only light this moon gave him was light to gaze at his own chains in sadness.

_ 9 hours and 2— _

“Oh, shut up!” Jisoo yells, trying to shush his own brain. The guard outside jumps in fear, and soon the unmistakable foul scent of a certain nature filled the room.

“Y-yes sir! I mean, n-no! I mean— please don’t kill me,” the guard stammers. It almost brings a smile to Jisoo’s face. Almost.

“Good.”

_ 03:28 AM, 10/04, 2135 years after Noxus _

_ “Happy birthday,” Jisoo whispers. Jeonghan flinches at the statement, confusion on his face before it hits him. October fourth. Jisoo smiles at the sight, using the moment to tackle his love with a hug. _

_ “What do you want for your birthday?” Jisoo asks. Jeonghan shrugs, although he seems to be in thought. Then, the blond boy turns to Jisoo and presses a soft kiss on his forehead. _

_ “You,” he replies. Jisoo rolls his eyes, although he wraps his arms a little tighter around Jeonghan’s body. Their legs tangles together, feeling the wet prick of grass on their limbs as soft giggles are exchanged. They’re in a meadow, one with wild flowers and blossoms of every colour. It seems even the dream knows it is Jeonghan’s birthday today. _

_ “Happy birthday,” Jisoo repeats, burying his nose into Jeonghan’s side. He smells like flowers, all pretty and beautiful. They laid there for what seems like hours, although it was probably just a couple of minutes. Time works oddly in these dreams. Their blissful moment is interrupted soon enough, though, earning a groan out of both boys. The room shifts, turning back to its normal view of the world. Today is Noxus, the towering spires of the Immortal Bastion coming into view. They follow the view into a small gladiator arena, packed full with viewers and leaders. In the middle, a large gray abomination roared with fury, swinging a large club around. It wears nothing but a pair of ripped shorts and rage, swivelling around to try and spot something. Jisoo gasps at the sight of a small boy, dressed in a long black overcoat filled with intricate silver designs. In his gloved hands is a large broadsword the size of the boy himself. It glows, beautiful tendrils of green surrounding the blade as the boy ran around the monster. He blocks the club once, using the leverage to jump onto the wooden club and climb up the monster’s arms. The monster flails around, trying to grab the little boy to no avail. The boy eventually lands seven (Jisoo counted) cuts onto the monster’s back before rolling off and landing. During the attack, the wind had swept the boy’s hood down, revealing the most beautiful set of green eyes Jisoo’s ever seen. Next to him, Jeonghan clings onto his sleeve. _

_ “Is this my birthday present?” Jeonghan whispers. Jisoo raises an eyebrow, no stranger to Jeonghan’s obsession with the big, tall, heroic type. Try as he may, Jisoo is just naturally skinny. It seems the dream decided to bless Jeonghan today. An exasperated sigh escapes his lips before Jisoo turns back to the boy. His attacks are punctuated, efficient and kind of mesmerizing to watch. Regardless of the cheers and boos in the crowd for both sides, the boy fights without paying them any attention, not trying to put on a show. It feels odd to see someone so similar in style to his real life self. The boy is ruthless. Somehow, he looks ridiculously hot with a concentrated frown on his face, ducking under swings and absolutely dominating the opposing monster. Jisoo is, admittedly, kind of smitten, despite his better senses. _

_ “Okay, I yield. This one’s pretty.” _

_ Jeonghan smirks. “It seems we’ve reached a common type.” _

The day of the trial, the sky is gray. There is a hint of humidity in the air, like it is going to rain. Regardless, it seems the whole nation turns up for Jisoo’s execution.

“Kill the traitor!”

“Filthy mage!”

“You deserve to die!” The crowd roars. Jisoo pays them no mind, only noticing how his chains were the only thing made out of petricite in the vicinity. This would make things so much easier to escape, if only Jisoo knew where to go.

“Silence!” Minhyun calls out to the crowd. They all snap to attention at the general’s voice. Even the royal family seems a little afraid. In the large courtyard, Jisoo is mounted on a small platform. Demacia’s many spires tower over him, petricite walls testing his willingness to unleash hell. It brings him a little comfort, knowing that he could easily overpower these measly measures of safety. The crowd is silent now, although the ones in front glare at him with murder in their eyes. Jisoo glares back, meeting each and every citizen’s eyes with his own bloodshot ones.

“We are gathered here today to witness the execution of a traitor,” Minhyun announces. The crowd erupts into cheers, a few catcalls thrown into the mix. Jisoo watches them, trying to find the ones who threw out those comments. His eyes catches no one looking at him, only Minhyun. Everybody is trained on Minhyun, demanding more and more ridiculous ways to kill him. All, except for—

Jisoo stifles a gasp. Standing amongst the crowd, a pair of black eyes meets his, firm determination in them. The faintest hint of green swirls in the irises, flickering slightly to the side. Next to the figure is another hood, swivelling towards Jisoo’s direction. The prisoner chokes back a sob, mentally cursing them for coming back for him. The pair leans their head ever so slightly at the gate in the back. It would take too long to reach there, Jisoo realizes, but it was their best option. Before he could find Seungcheol and Jeonghan again, Minhyun silences the crowd.

“You, Hong Jisoo, are hereby tried for murder of a Demacian, treason to the country and most of all, use of magic,” Minhyun declares, pointing a sword in his direction, venom dripping from his every word. There is no hint of mercy, no hint of remorse as he stares Jisoo down. The brainwash had been a little  _ too _ effective on the first batch of kids, Jisoo realizes. Regardless, Jisoo growls back. A guard elbows his back, making Jisoo kneel in front of Demacia’s general. Pain explodes in his back, boiling his blood. The bloodlust creeps up in his peripheral vision, a familiar tint of red in them as he works out a plan in his head. Minhyun approaches him, boots clicking as he fills Jisoo’s senses with anger.

“You, who dared to infiltrate the military in hopes of foiling our plans. You, who dared try to earn our trust only to later backstab us. You,” Minhyun slaps Jisoo, letting the pain sting for as long as possible before snapping his chin back to the center, “who will die today.”

The crowd eggs him on.

“Any last words, foul villain?” Minhyun hisses, boots slamming down onto Jisoo’s left shoulder. All of a sudden, everything shatters in Jisoo’s vision. The world blends into a mix of memories and long-lost joy. No longer could Jisoo go back and wonder about the ‘what if’s. There was no comfort in Minhyun’s dark eyes anymore. A brother lost. Maybe Jisoo lost Minhyun the moment he regained himself. With anger in his veins, Jisoo locks eyes with the general and spits right between his eyes. The crowd revolts, screaming and demanding him fed to the silver wyverns. Minhyun wipes the spit away, raising his hand up to silence the crowd as he raises his sword.

“Farewell then, villain.”

Jisoo smirks, letting the crimson haze take over his eyes. Thoughts of everything these people have done to him fills his mind. Dongwan, who he loved like a brother, before the training turned them into mindless robots who only ever fought. Minhyun, who used to sneak him snacks behind Mistress’s back at night, who watched the stars with him and helped him through the rigorous training program. Mis—no, Wendy, who loved him like her own son. Who screamed bloody murder when he was taken away. Who swore to destroy the world to get him back. They had lives, loves, hopes and dreams. Demacia isn’t the great protector. It only destroys. The guards around him are all boiling in fury, an excess amount of blood in their veins that responded to Jisoo’s own like windchimes to the wind. Perfect.

Minhyun swings the sword down. The sky is gray and stormy, crackling and thundering as the execution starts. The crowd rings in his ear, glee in their chants and ruthless murder in their words. Perhaps, in another future, the rain would be a blessing to his dead body. But today was not to be that day, Jisoo decides.

“Farewell, villain,” Jisoo whispers back.

And then, the world explodes in crimson red.


	12. Happy ending, Happy ending (JH)

It is terrifying, to be reminded of what Jisoo truly is. There is blood everywhere, soaking crimson spears that pierces through guards like skewers. The sight alone is enough to make Jeonghan’s knees weak, frozen in place as he watches Jisoo break free of his chains and stand eye to eye with his former commander. Minhyun, Jeonghan remembers.

“C’mon, Soo can’t keep this up forever,” Seungcheol whispers, tugging at Jeonghan’s arm. He follows, letting Seungcheol drag him towards the place everyone was running from. Seungcheol is strangely unaffected, not even flinching when a blood spear flies over his head. Their hoods falls off in the commotion, letting a few straggling civilians to recognize them from the reports. Jeonghan  _ assumes _ there were reports. Seungcheol growls low in his throat, unsheathing his blade and staring the civilians straight in the eye.

“Scatter,” he warns them, before launching himself onto the stage. Jisoo’s blood spears have lessened in numbers, but with presence of Seungcheol and his dragon, it seems they are only replaced by a more menacing foe. The pair fights like a well-oiled machine, picking off guards like children in a flower field. Jeonghan can only watch in a mix of wonder, amazement, awe and absolute terror.

It is terrifying, to be reminded of what Jisoo and Seungcheol truly are.

“Hannie!” Seungcheol yells over the chaos, startling Jeonghan into action. He turns around to see a guard approach him with a raised sword. He throws his arms up to block the attack, illuminating his side of the battlefield in a bright light that threw his attacker across the scene. Grin widening with discovery, Jeonghan jumps onto the stage and summons his power into a single ball of light, flinging it at a guard sneaking up on Jisoo. He explodes like a piñata, which Jisoo takes use of immediately. There is no mercy in his attacks anymore, and Seungcheol catches on to that fact. There is a certain layer of trust between them, how Seungcheol doesn’t even once stop to ask Jisoo why he is so willing to fight the people he grew up with. And to Jisoo’s credit, he doesn’t stop to explain either. They blend like honey in tea, two halves of a whole that seems to be willing to give each other their whole life at a moment’s notice. Something twists in Jeonghan’s chest, but it’s not something bad. It’s realization, it's confirmation and it’s absolute certainty of what Jeonghan needs to do next.

“We can’t go through the gate anymore!” Jisoo yells. Jeonghan’s shoulders droop, but not for long before he has to fight again. Jisoo takes a bow from a fallen guard, firing an arrow at an approaching one before turning to Seungcheol’s half of the battlefield. It was like a hurricane had blown through and decided to grind everything into tiny pieces. Despite this, Sengcheol stays absolutely unbothered, standing as close as he could to Jeonghan and still demolishing the enemy. Jeonghan’s heart skips a beat at this, heat rising in his cheeks before he could chide himself.

“Any other ideas then?” Seungcheol yells. Jeonghan bites his bottom lip, tossing another guard over his head and towards Jisoo as he tried to think. Suddenly, it hit him.

“Jisoo! Your mark!” he calls. Jisoo stares at him, confused. Jeonghan runs over, ducking under a flying blood spear as he approached.

“There’s at least 10 others with a mark! Can you do the teleporting thing like you did with me?!”

Jisoo’s eyes widen, kicking a soldier down as he turns to Seungcheol.

“Cheol!”

“Yeah I got you, just find us a way out!” Seungcheol yells back. Jeonghan nods, setting up a barrier around Jisoo and him. The marksman swings his bow over his shoulders, inhaling deeply as he squeezes his eyes shut. His hair floats upwards, turning pink at the tips and slowly spreading down to his roots. It is ridiculously hot, in Jeonghan’s opinion. Crimson energy flickers around him, but there is something different in it. A hint of vivid orange and ice-blue flickers in his aura, swirling like two vines fighting for dominance. Suddenly, Jisoo’s eyes fly open, iris-less and struggling as he looked up at Jeonghan.

“I’m ready! Come on!”

Jeonghan didn’t need to be told twice. A guard charges at him, appearing in his peripheral view as he started to swing down. No! He was too slow! Suddenly, a figure jumps out of nowhere, the familiar mark of magic in Jeonghan’s view as the guard explodes. Seungcheol grabs his arm, hoisting him up and throwing Jeonghan towards Jisoo. He lands safely, miraculously, and grabs Jisoo’s outstretched hand. Seungcheol follows suit later, emerald green energy enveloping his figure as he joins their little circle. Crackling energy fills Jeonghan’s senses, a mix of pale yellow, bright green, crimson, ice blue and fiery orange in the circle as he looks up to meet Seungcheol’s eyes. Light envelops their bodies, making them slowly fade away. Jeonghan loses the feeling in his feet when he leans forward, taking delight in Seungcheol’s confused expression. Next to him, Jisoo lets out a little laugh, as if a million guards weren’t convening into their position. Time slows down, as if the world decided to have mercy for once in Jeonghan’s life.

“You wanted to know how I feel, right?” Jeonghan smirks. Seungcheol’s eyes widens in confusion.

“You’re scaring him, Hannie,” Jisoo points out. Jeonghan starts to lose his fingertips in the magic, swimming in the feeling of pure relief and anticipation as he leans in further. Seungcheol’s breath fans over Jeonghan’s nose, little hot and surprised breaths spilling out from his lips as his eyes flicker downwards. Jeonghan smirks a little wider, letting his eyes close as he presses his lips onto the other’s own. The magic envelops his neck, tickling the nerves, except Jeonghan’s too busy drowning in Seungcheol’s taste to really pay attention. He kisses like fireworks, explosive and energetic, yet slow and beautiful at the same time. Jeonghan thinks he could stay there forever, just drowning in Seungcheol’s arms. It’s strange, how much comfort he could find in someone he’s only known for a few days. There was an old Targonian myth, of souls made for other souls. They called them soulmates, who completed each other like the Sun and Moon. Jeonghan likes to think the two boys next to him were just that, like the winds to his sails. His mother often compared life to a ship, and how with every land mass Jeonghan’s ship passed by, he got a little further in life. In a way, Jisoo and Seungcheol are the gentle west winds on his back, nudging him along.

“This really doesn’t answer shit,” Seungcheol breathes, although his face is fading already. Jeonghan simply smiles back.

“You’ll get your answer later, pretty boy.”

_??:?? ?M, ??/??, ???? Years after Noxus, _

_ The yellow room is instantly recognizable. Jeonghan opens his eyes with a start, blinking away the dark spots in his vision. With a frown, he twitches his left foot, checking for control. It responds, and he lets out a relieved sigh. And yet, that shouldn’t be happening. His dreams post-climb were usually memories of past dreams, or future events. He’d have no control over himself then though. The only other time this happened— _

“Hannie?” a voice called out. Relief fills Jeonghan’s senses at the familiar voice, turning around to find Jisoo staring right into his soul. His lifelong companion in the dream world, apparently.

“We left him,” Jeonghan says, eyes sad in contrast to his smile. Jisoo says nothing, only returning the expression as he crawled to join him.

“It’s only temporary, right? We can’t be here forever. It’s only a dream.”

“But it’ll be quite the long dream, my dear,” an echoey, female voice echoes over their head. Jeonghan jumps at the noise, whipping his head around to find the source.

“What do you mean?” Jisoo calls. The voice pauses for a moment, before starting again.

“You were taken out of your intended time. Only one of you, the dragon tamer, was supposed to be born in this era. Only one of you was needed to close that lesser rift. The rest are supposed to still be drifting in the Dream world. It seems,” the voice pauses, “it seems that the Watchers have found a way through.”

Jeonghan frowns. “Explain,” he demands.

“There are thirteen of you, as you may have guessed. You were all supposed to be born centuries into the future, when the Watchers were about to break through. However, it seems our ancient spell has failed. The thirteen pieces are scattered now. Reunite them, or the Watchers will invade our world. The gods will aid you, but even they cannot continue meddling. This dream alone is a blessing. Do not count on it to happen to others too.”

The air is silent, thick with thought before Jeonghan could finally find his words.

“So you’re sending us on a quest to find other people with this,” he gestures to his mark, “thing. And then we save Runeterra.”

If the voice could nod, it probably did.

Jeonghan sighs. “Sure. Why not? What could go wrong? Drop us into the world with no explanation and expect us to swim, why don’t you. There’s a million questions on my mind but sure, give me more—“

“Hannie,” Jisoo interrupts, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand as he looked around the room.

“What about Cheollie then? What happened to him?”

The voice sighed, an odd sound coming from a disembodied figure.

“The invasion has been hastened. You will wake up sooner than planned, but it will happen. For now, we have decided to send the blood archer and the dragon tamer to the fire tender. He will not be ready for a long while, but when the time comes, you must find him. As for the light guardian, I fear you must convince our glacial assassin to change his ways a little further down the timeline of Runeterra. If you fail—“

“The world will end, yada yada yada,” Jeonghan grits his teeth. “Care to explain more relevant and current info?”

“I shall answer your questions, light guardian.”

A sigh. “Why are we the only ones with access to this dream? What about Cheollie?”

“The dream was never meant for you to be aware of. It was only for the gods to intervene when necessary. Your dragon tamer won’t be able to join you. One day, you’ll all find a way here. But for now, it is just the two of you.”

Jisoo frowns. “Why later?”

The voice ignored him. “This dream will continue for you two, but not for him. He can only see black right now. It is your duty to return light to the boy and make sure we do not lose another to the Watchers.”

Jisoo’s eyes widen.

“What do you mean ‘lose another’?”

The voice sighed sadly.

“You are about to slip into a coma, my heroes. You will only dream. Do not lose hope, even when times are at their darkest. You will prevail. You must.”

Somewhere in the vast deserts of Shurima, two boys wake up, spitting out sand five hundred and twenty years into the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on twitter if you want: @heonynchans


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